Ignition, Saga 1: Ascension
by HereTheHeartBeats
Summary: Denitt has lived an ordinary life in the swamps of the plane of Arin for years. But when a traumatic event sparks something within him he cannot understand, a series of events that will change his life and the lives of every living being begins.
1. Part 1: Ascension

A Tajick raid is nothing strange. The brutality involved in their raids, even less so. No one thinks it's unusual when a Tajick cavalryman beheads anyone, or when a Tajick raider breaks into homes and takes what they wish. That is, after all, what a raid is.

This is standard operating procedure for Tajick clans. They are brutal, no doubt. In fact, the result of their brutality, and what it caused, is the reason Kuesh had come to this place; the edge of Arind.

It was a desolate land, for the most part. Mountains dotted the landscape, and rivers dug, slowly, into its surface. Muddy forests and swamps, though, were its distinguishing feature. In these cesspools rose small villages full of hardy inhabitants who were used to the stench and refuse the bogs coughed up.

And Fardun was no exception. Founded decades earlier by settlers who were forced into exile from fairer homesteads, they paced the land until they could no more, and the place they stopped was named The Fardun Bogs, after the leader of the group, a debilitated old man who had somehow carved his way into the leadership of the pariahs.

Sickly fortifications made of the crudest of materials that could be scavenged from the Bogs guarded the town, in the same way of a piece of bark might defend one from a crossbow bolt at point-blank range. Buildings made of mud were constructed on a partially dry patch of the swamp, and slowly expanded- both the town, and the swamp's influence on it.

Murder was not common. Neither were hatred or grudges. But misery hung over it, and so it was not uncommon for a citizen to commit suicide, and, for the most part, the town was kept under a bit of peace, if only because its denizens were too downcast to do anything about whatever grudges that were carrying. Still, it was always a sad affair when someone was killed, even though the bodies were hardly ever buried, and just used as kindling for the village fire, or, in more desperate times, the roast above such a fire.

It wasn't because the people were naturally weak, or self-deprecating, but because the swamp was a dead end. No one came to settle there. Anyone who did drift by and stayed often did it only to escape some past, certainly troubling event in their life. Everyone who lived there knew that living there meant one thing- you have automatically failed.

And for these reasons, no one cared to raise a hand against the Tajick. But the parents of Denitt did, as best they could, if only to defend him.

Denitt looked on in horror as his parents were held against the wall of a nearby house, and slaughtered. He didn't even have time to react before he was surrounded in an aura of blue and white, and then, suddenly, he was in another world.

The village had calmed down since then. Kuesh walked through it. Obviously the child's spark had caught- there was no question. Now he only had to find out where, and Hopestream was not going to help him, which, frankly, Kuesh hated. Kuesh looked around at the corpses being hauled to the center of the village by people who had tears streaking down their ash-laden cheeks. Sorrow was temporary. But the feast they were going to have was cause for celebration. No one was sad for what had been taken, of course, because nothing of value was taken. There was nothing of value to take.

No one looked to Kuesh. He looked at their faces, blank. But still melancholy. A village of nothing had become even less of nothing.

Kuesh sighed. Feelings weren't his job.

He wanted to get out of this swamp as soon as possible. It's energy made him drowsy and conflicted. He kept walking.

Fog settled around the village. Still inhabitants hauled corpses away. Shadows got longer and Kuesh became more uneasy and uncertain. This was a simple job, right? He had never felt this way before, and a slow horror was dawning on him.

A group of guards walked past Kuesh, expressionless. One held a longsword. He clasped it with both hands, as if preparing for battle. Another loaded a bolt into her crossbow. Yet another carried his pike; malice in his shape. All three passed without incident.

Kuesh lifted his arm and summoned a spark detecting spell, which had been perfected long ago at Tolarian Academy by Urza, before his untimely death. It was one of many spells he had kept hidden and which had never been found for centuries, hiding in the dark recesses of the Academy until it was found by intrepid explorers. Kuesh was one of those explorers. He bragged about it often.

The spell lit up in a brilliant blue and white flare, the colors Kuesh was most associated with. It showed a great map. Denitt was not on this plane. Kuesh sighed. He had wasted a lot of time to get a very obvious answer.

He stood still, thought deeply, and went away.

Denitt looked left at the lush greenery. Denitt looked right at the spiralling mountains. He looked down at the soil, the barely covered gray patterns that looked like bone. He looked up at the cloudless sky, in which hung a brilliant light. Denitt had never seen a sun so bright and it terrified him. To anyone with experience of the Multiverse looking in, this place would be called Zendikar. To Denitt, it was a strange and frightening place, an alien world that he had come to for reasons beyond his understanding or comprehension.

Denitt was in a medium sized clearing surrounded by plants, but barren of more sophisticated life.

He walked forward. The gray, bony substance cracked a little beneath his feet, but otherwise the ground was stable. He walked up to a bush, and held his hand out. It didn't snap at him, or growl, or do any of the other things Denitt had come to associate bushes with. It was just a simple, benign bush. It sat there in the ground like a lot of bushes do.

Denitt looked around again and walked up to a tree that looked somewhat malnourished but otherwise was completely average-looking. He touched it. It also didn't do anything.

What is this place, he thought.

"What is this place?" he thought outloud. No one answered except a slight breeze that echoed through the forest. His voice echoed with it, then disappeared.

Denitt walked into the treeline. He kept walking. The weight of his situation struck him.

He stopped.

Then he picked up a sprint. What if he got to the summit of a mountain? When if he climbed a tree? Could he find a way back home then? Was he still anywhere near home? He thought of stories from his village. Long ago, beings were exiled, or simply destroyed, becoming nothing but a soulless husk. Isn't that how his people originally wound up in the treacherous swamps? He thought more. Some though, were sent far away by the most expert of mages. Did that happen to him? If so, how far away was he? Why him?

He sprinted more. He looked up at a large mountain spewing liquid rock down its sides. Unbeknownst to him it had been a lot more active only centuries earlier, but the sapping of mana had drained the pinnacle to nothing more than short bursts of rock, and then silence for a few years, and the cycle would repeat. This was happening now. The cycle was beginning again. Denitt didn't know. Unbeknownst to him as well was its name, one as ancient as the plane of Zendikar itself.

Valakut, the Molten Pinnacle.

He ran toward it, as trees receded and gave way to rock. Obsidian and granite passed in equal. The fires of the summit burned eternal.

Far away, Kuesh came to Zendikar. He arrived with a blade this time, that he had picked up from Hopestream. They were very disappointed he hadn't returned with the boy, but Kuesh was in a very sour mood, so he told them half in jest that they should throw themselves off Hopestream's cliffs if they were so inclined. They gave him a blade and told him the boy was on Zendikar, near the Molten Pinnacle. Kuesh sighed. he very much disliked Zendikar. He seemed to always get into trifles with its inhabitants. He even more disliked Valakut.

. The elves near Valakut tended to be very… violent, so the blade was appreciated. Kuesh was uncomfortable close to the Molten Pinnacle, and he didn't like it.

Denitt looked across the valleys, and forests. Rivers sliced the landscape. Great grey swathes crossed it, like the ones Denitt had stood on when he first arrived here. Smoke from the fiery mountain choked the air and lowered visibility. Somewhere, a flock of birds took off. Somewhere else, the noises of an animal could be heard, loud and low. It was far away. Denitt feared for what a creature that could make that sound might look like. What it could do to him. He shuddered. Then he remembered his predicament. He shuddered again, but deeper.

He collapsed onto his knees. He looked down in shock. His knees hurt. His pants had been torn by obsidian that had cut into his knees. He didn't care. He enjoyed the pain, if only because it numbed that which he had experienced already in the last few hours.

He lied down. He wanted to sleep. Maybe it was all… he closed his eyes… maybe it was all a bad… he took a deep breath… dream? A tear rolled down his cheek.

The mountain exploded in fiery protest.

Kuesh was uncertain where to go. The child was… blue? Perhaps he was aligned with black. He had, after all, spent his entire life in a swamp. But he was assured the child was blue. That's why he had been sent, but Kuesh didn't detect their presence near the rivers. But, for some reason, he felt a strong pull to Valakut. It's read mana infused his head with static.

It dawned on him that that reason wasn't as strange as he wanted to admit. The boy was up there. And the mountain was erupting, of course. It was, after all, just his luck.

He channeled a teleportation spell, the kind he was told never to use except in emergencies. This counted.

He went away, several kilometers. The trees around his previous point vaporized from the explosion. That could be heard for miles.

Kuesh came to the foot of the pinnacle with a splitting headache. He remembered why he was told never to do that. It his first combat situation, he had used it, thinking it would be a neat trick. He was almost killed in that exchange afterwards. It hurt.

Kuesh felt as deep as he could, any kind of amalgamation that could even resemble where the newly sparked planeswalker might be located. In a rush, it came to him. He was on the north side of the mountain. Kuesh was on the east. He sighed, then broke into a sprint.

Denitt felt a deep fear, for the first time in- actually in only a couple hours. But it felt like forever since he had this kind of apprehension.

The mountain burst again, and Denitt took off down it. The previous hours had been a constant fight for survival, and a soul-crushing elapse, and still life did not abate its hardships.

He thought he heard a voice yelling after him, but he just winced and kept running.

It called out more. It was just the wind.

Then, in a flash, there was a man, right in front of Denitt, hardly even a couple meters away.

"Stop!" he exclaimed.

It was not the wind.

Denitt stopped. But he had stopped too fast- he tripped and fell, but the man caught him. Denitt was bruised. He hurt all over. Now someone was here. Probably a Tajick raider. But he didn't think the raiders could move across the land like that…? Denitt was probably about to die. Would it be painful? Would he be reunited with his parents? That sounded good; even if it was the slimmest possibility, Denitt didn't care anymore.

"Just kill me, get it over with, would you?" Denitt got up, head hung. He was desperate not to look at Kuesh.

"What!?"

The boy looked up tentatively.

"Just do it." The boy looked to Kuesh's hand- the blade was out.

"Gods!" Kuesh holstered the blade and looked at the child. "I'm sorry." He held out his hand, friendly, and relieved. "I'm not here to kill you. I'm actually-"

The boy looked at Kuesh, almost remorseful, as if he wanted Kuesh to kill him.

Valakut exploded.

"Uh," Kuesh said, staring up. "I think we're going to have to cut the introduction short." He paused. "I'm sorry- I didn't get your name."

The boy stared at Kuesh, dumbfounded. "Who are you?" he asked, almost disgusted, but horrifically confused, more than anything else.

"Tell me your name," Kuesh persisted.

"Denitt."

"Just… Denitt?" Kuesh asked.

The mountain began to pour its lava down the side, coming straight for the pair.

"It'll have to do!" Kuesh took hold of Denitt. "Listen to me. What I say next is going to save your life, okay? So listen good."

Denitt didn't respond. His face was blank, like the villagers of the Fardun Bogs. He briefly thought how unsettling it was, that they'd all do that...

There was no time for thoughts like that though.

"Okay, think deeply. Actually, close your eyes. Close your eyes first." Kuesh stopped. Denitt obeyed. "Okay, next… think really deeply. Just trust me on this, okay?" Denitt nodded. "Imagine a flat island, in the sky-"

"An island in the sky…?" Denitt questioned.

"Just think of one!" Kuesh yelled. He calmed himself in the next moment. "Sorry. Er… yes. An island in the sky. Now imagine it swoop up into a large mountain; a hill."

"Still in the sky?"

"Yes. Now, think of a fortress built into that hill. Think of it, surrounded by floating stone chunks, and a horizon that's simultaneously misty, but so clear that you-"

The mountain burst a final time. There were but a few seconds remaining.

Kuesh continued. "A misty and yet clear horizon. Imagine grass in a clearing on that island in the sky. Imagine touching down on it, lightly. Think all these things, then imagine disappearing." Kuesh too, now closed his eyes. "Imagine that ground, and it's softness, and the harsh yet kind atmosphere that surrounds it, cold but not quite wintry, soft, but not quite so inviting. All these things…" He stopped, shutting his eyes tighter, a tear rolling down his cheek. He remembered back to when his spark had been ignited, and the description of Hopestream he had received from a comrade long past…"now."

Kuesh opened his eyes, getting rid of his emotion. Denitt was gone.

Kuesh looked to the right at the red liquid coursing towards him, only seconds away. He dismissed it and followed suit behind Denitt. Off they both were, to a place so far away.


	2. Part 2: Hopestream

_Part 2_

 _Hopestream_

The ground was unusually soft on Denitt's face.

"Stand up, would you?" a familiar voice said. It was Kuesh.

Denitt picked his face up off the ground. "What-"

In front of him was a stone fortress built into a massive mountain that spiralled upwards with large crags in all its sides. Ramparts covered it, seeming to protect against non-existent invaders. Denitt looked left, then right. The whole place was an island, like Kuesh had described. The horizon was foggy, and uncertain. But it was in the sky, not in the water.

Denitt looked back, and suddenly, there was Kuesh extending a hand downward. He waved it, obviously waiting for Denitt to take hold.

Denitt did.

"So, here you are," Kuesh said.

Denitt looked over his shoulder at… no one. The fortress was deserted.

"No, there are people inside," Kuesh said, as if he was reading Denitt's mind.

"Oh," Denitt said.

"Walk with me," Kuesh said, almost phrasing it as a question. He turned, strolling towards the fortress, and Denitt followed, feeling as if he had had a choice.

"So, you're first planeswalk, hm? Tiring, I'm sure. You'll get use to it. Everyone feels the same way for their first 'walk." Kuesh paused. "A lot of my peers were excited to bring you in. This is kind of a job for me, to recover planeswalkers. It's what I do. Populations around the Multiverse have been going up recently, so there are quite a few more planeswalkers recently."

"The Multiverse?" Denitt asked. He knew he had a lot, too much, perhaps, to learn.

"Yes. A collection of lands, like yours."

"Did my world have a name to you? We just called it the World."

"Yes. We call it Arin. It was Dominaria once, one of the most pivotal of all the planes. Now, not so much. It's named after the group of people who saved it from its second destruction."

"The… what were they called… The things that attacked, who were repulsed by beings of great power..." Denitt racked his memory for the name of the beings that had invaded his homeland thousands of years before his birth.

"Phyrexians."

"Oh," Denitt said, surprised. "Them."

"The Arinites are an extinct clan now, but they were such an important group of planeswalkers. They actually founded the Hideouts. They stopped the second Phyrexian invasion a thousand or so years ago."

"Er…" Denitt wondered.

Kuesh stopped, and raised his hand for Denitt to as well. "This," he said, waving outwards,"is a Hideout. There are sixteen. Five for planeswalkers that follow but one color, ten for those that follow two, and a single one more, in which reside the planeswalkers of three colors. There are very few of them but their Hideout is particularly massive."

"I see." Denitt paused. "I think. What about those who are four? And, what is a color. What do-"

"In due time," Kuesh dismissed. The pair continued walking. Denitt was a little disappointed with that answer.

Suddenly, a part of the front wall of the fortress cracked open, and a thin woman in rather tattered clothes showed her face. Following up behind her were two massive… things. Made of metal.

Kuesh leaned over. "Automatons. Don't mind them. They know you're not hostile." He looked towards the inconspicuous opening. "Desha! We have a visitor!"

The woman looked at both of them. "About damn time, I'd say," she fired back in jest. "Vensey-boy's waiting." She waved them forward, and Kuesh started to move to the door. Denitt followed.

The inside of the fortress was, surprisingly to Denitt, very warm-feeling. Beyond the stone exterior was a second stone wall, with torches on the walls. The place was empty- is was just a room that would be a point to defend if the outer wall fell, no doubt. It was only a few feet long in two dimensions, but it was longer in the third, a rectangle on the horizontal axis. Denitt looked again. He didn't know how he understood all of those things. He supposed he was good at logic, but-

"Beyond this wall is the Hopestream Hideout. At the moment, there are visiting emissaries. They are a little… unconventional. Attempt to stay out of their way. Their emotions are very easy to stoke, and I don't want them trouncing through this place looking for you," Kuesh said suddenly, and without pause. He had had to deal with that before.

Denitt nodded. There was a door on the other side of the room from where the two had entered. It was large, wooden and steel in equal measure. Kuesh walked up to it and pushed it open.

Beyond it was a welcoming room, like a tavern. Tables covered its walls at which sat several staunch men and women, all merry. Most had tattoos and braided, long hair. They sat in cushioned benches alcoved into the wall around large wooden tables. On each one were two candles. One glowed green, the other red. Denitt had never been in an atmosphere of such feeling. It seemed very wrong to him.

Soldiers, too, stood around it, clad in armor of a substance that seemed foreign to Denitt. It seemed to swirl around them. They looked uneasily at the marked people around them as if those people were caged animals waiting for anything to make them snap. No one seemed more on edge than those soldiers, so Denitt was confused.

The lady from outside was in the middle of the room. Other people carrying platters of drink swirled around her. She now wore grandiose armor, more effervescent than anyone else in the room. It glowed a strange teal. Her helmet was off, and Denitt saw something strange about the way her head was shaped.

"It's rude to stare," Kuesh said in a friendly but still somewhat mocking tone, stooping down to Denitt.

"Er…" Denitt was confused.

"I'm kidding."

Denitt looked to Kuesh, who smiled immensely.

Why was everyone so happy?

The room in which many celebrated had two doors on the far wall. Denitt, Kuesh, and Desha walked to one. Several of the seated people looked to the trio as they passed. One with no eyes in his sockets looked too, dead into Denitt's eyes, even though the man could not see. It terrified Denitt deeply, and he could not help but look away immediately.

The door opened into a stone lined hallways. The wood floors creaked slightly beneath their collective feet.

Denitt looked to the woman again, trying to see what was so indiscernible about her.

Then he realized her ears- they were pointed. He knew there was a name for the kind of being with that trait- he stopped. He couldn't remember. He thought more, but they had reached the end of the hallway. They all stopped.

Kuesh looked back.

"Beyond this door is the training ground. Look around at all the things other people are doing. You'll be doing it someday. Maybe." He looked back and threw the door open.

They all walked through, and Denitt saw so many people- and not quite humans- doing myriad things.

A pair stood on each end of the room, one to right and left of Denitt, having some kind of battle of wits. They both looked immensely tired and bored at the same time. Denitt felt the same way.

Kuesh looked down at the chile. He felt confident- he had never had such a chance, not for a while, to kill the Elder. Everyone knew that. People kept staring at Denitt as the three walked past. Denitt couldn't know why. Had he picked up that he was important? Kuesh doubted it.

"So," he said,"we're going to meet a very important man. I trust you'll be polite and answer his questions accordingly, yes?"

Denitt looked up to Kuesh. "I… suppose."

"Very good. You've been a good sport through this whole thing. Keep it up." _It only gets harder from here._ Kuesh thought. _I shouldn't tell him, though._ Kuesh looked off to the left, away from Denitt. _But he'll be unprepared._ Kuesh looked back to Denitt. _We're always unprepared. The Elder is always one step ahead._ Kuesh looked forward to Desha. The elf didn't look back. _He's going to help us get on track. It's impossible to prepare anyone for a task so monumental as that._ Kuesh kept silent, unflinching.

The three finished crossing the room, and came to a final door before the ascend to the Chamber. They all climbed through, onto the giant staircase upwards.

Kuesh looked to Denitt who was trying to take in the full scope of the cliff face above him.

Denitt looked out to the horizon. It was incredible, but also terrifying. Clouds with perfectly cut edges wafted through the air miles away. The color changed from a vanilla white, downwards to yellow, then gray, and finally black below, a ceaseless abyss.

He looked behind him and up. A massive wall of stone ascended at least a hundred, or even more, feet in the air. To his left was a staircase, all stone, some cracked, but mostly whole. It was clear that not many people used the staircase. Denitt wondered for a brief moment why.

"Let's start climbing," Kuesh said. The trio did.

It was a gruelling climb, each step above a couple hundred more brutal than the last. The staircase curled around the mountain, upwards more and more.

The climb began to infuriate Denitt. Every step seemed to elevate less than the last. It was easier to walk, and yet it felt like he was no less closer to whatever their destination was.

Then, they rounded a final corner, and there it was. Two automatons guarded monolithic doors. It shocked Denitt that it seemed to have taken so long. He looked back down the staircase that had seemed so monumental.

"Here we are," Kuesh said, taking a sarcastic bow. "After you." He came out of the bow and stretched his hand out to the doors. The automatons seemed to stare at him incredulously through crystalline eyes.

Denitt walked to them tentatively. The automatons that had stood so steadfast parted, and Denitt held his hands out. He looked back. Desha looked at him morosely, as if she knew Denitt wouldn't like what he would find behind the doors.

Denitt swung them open, and in front of him was a grand hall, all the way down to a great throne of carbon and quartz. Windows went all the way down it, their grates casting light across the stone floor. Where was the light coming from? Denitt wondered. Wasn't the chamber imbedded in the mountain itself?

"If you're wondering," Kuesh said,"this chamber, and the stairs, have their own spatial realities." He gestured to the man at the end of the room. "But I think there's more than just that that you need to tend to." He pointed now at the throne, on which sat a somewhat intimidating figure.

He sat there tentatively, as if Denitt had disturbed a silence the man had never had. They stared piercingly at Denitt. The figure furrowed his brows, and raised a hand and struck it across his gray-shocked brown hair.

He opened his mouth. He closed it suddenly. Obviously the man didn't know what to say, and neither did Denitt.

Denitt looked back a second time to Kuesh, who was smiling widely.

"What!?" Denitt snapped, at everybody.

"Hello," the person finally spoke,"I am Venser. I am ecstatic to meet you."

"Welcome, child." Kuesh looked at Venser. Everyone was happy Denitt and the Archmage had finally met. It was untold decades in the making.

"There are important things I would like to tell you. But I think a tour is in order first." Venser always required tours for the newly sparked Planeswalkers, even if they were more important, and, Kuesh thought, should really be getting on with training instead. "Tours are always important for helping a young Planeswalker find their way." He looked to Kuesh now. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Kuesh looked away. It wasn't like Venser to say something hurtful like that. Perhaps it just slipped. Perhaps Venser though he was just cracking a joke. Kuesh wasn't laughing.

"I suppose," said Kuesh, looking back.

"Then it is in order." Venser sat up in his chair. The old Venser had been taken, only to be replaced by a crueller one. Kuesh hated it, even though he had been nearly a thousand years to settle into the idea of it.

"Just the typical ones?" Kuesh asked.

"Zendikar-"

"I'd rather not. Not again."

"Er…" Venser said, uncertain. "You have to. A little bit."

Kuesh sighed. "Fine." He paused. "Yeah, fine."

"Okay, good. So, Zendikar, Alara, Arin, Mirro- uh… no skip that one. Okay, Zendikar, Alara, Arin, Innistran, Paliano, Tarkir…"

"Ravnica."

"Yes! Ravnica. And Kamigawa. Is that all?"

"Should we visit Theros?"

Denitt kept looking back and forth between Kuesh and Venser, as if the two were speaking in code. He looked worried.

"No," said Venser. "Too dangerous."

"Certainly."

"Alright. You have a mighty task ahead of you. I suggest you leave tomorrow."

"I suppose," Kuesh said. He skirted his foot around anxiously.

"Tomorrow," he said.

Kuesh walked through the cavernous doors. Venser was kinder than usual, most likely because of the guest he had in his company. Though Denitt didn't know it, he was very important. It mattered that everyone be nice to him, lest the Elder turn him against the people of Hopestream, and beyond, for their own nefarious purposes.

"I'm starving," Denitt said, walking out behind Kuesh.

Desha had stayed behind to talk to Venser. Though she was more green-aligned, Kuesh could appreciate her more thoughtful aspects.

"I am too," Kuesh said. He had no idea what the kitchen would produce tonight. Likely some nicer fare considering who was here.

"I don't mean to intrude," Denitt said, as the two walked down the infinite-seeming steps,"but you and that Venser guy…" He stopped. "You don't seem to like each other. Or at least you don't seem to like him."

Kuesh looked back a small bit, and only briefly. "I suppose." He tried to stay neutral.

"Why?" Denitt asked.

"Well, let me tell you at dinner tonight." He looked back this time, all the way over his shoulder at Denitt. "It's a _long_ story."

Kuesh showed Denitt where the dining hall was. It was next to the living quarters, in which Denitt had been assigned a room, Number 48, and the quarters were next to the labs, which were next to the main fairway and planeswalking room, which were next to the commons and training grounds, both of which Denitt had seen already.

Now the two sat at a table with a couple other planeswalkers. One introduced themselves as Yataeso. He had large ears and blue-ish pale white skin. Denitt had never seen a being like them.

"I am a moonfolk," he said. "I get that kind of reaction of lot, since my species is native to Ka-" He looked over to Kuesh, who shook his head. "Ah, I see. You haven't been to the rest of the Multiverse yet. Well, when you get to Kamigawa, take it in. This isn't just bias- personally, it's one of the most beautiful planes of the Multiverse." He sat down at their table.

Denitt looked around at the large room, with wooden floors and stone walls, like the rest of Hopestream. Dozens of tables lined the floor of the room. At most sat a few people. Some had a mad look in their eyes, scribbling incessantly on pieces of paper. Kuesh leaned over and informed Denitt that those were top scientists, always working away to uncover the secrets of the Multiverse. Others polished swords in between bites of food. They were the soldiers, either tasked with instilling peace on planes, Kuesh had said, when everyone, and everything, else failed, or just defending Hopestream if the need arose. Others worked on different tasks, but they all seemed to be upbeat, a glint in all their eyes that carried a tinge of optimism.

Denitt looked at the food he had received from a bar on a wall of the room. It looked like meat, with alien vegetables on the side. Some of them were both green and blue, two colors swirling like paint on the morsel's surface. Another was a glistening red.

"It's all good," said Kuesh. He smiled, taking a bite. Obviously this was not the common food for people living here. It must be special, Denitt concluded, because he had arrived. He knew he meant a lot for some reason. Was he why everyone was so happy?

He stopped and looked down to his food again. He reached up and grabbed a utensil off the table and started picking at the food, finally deciding to lance it and bite into it. It tasted fine, certainly leagues above what he would have eaten on Arin.

"So," Kuesh said. "I think I have a lot to tell you."

Kuesh and Denitt turned their heads to each other. Yataeso and a couple other planeswalkers looked on.

Kuesh never tired of the telling the story to the new planeswalkers- or even the old ones. It always amazed them. Well, usually anyway. It was his favorite part of his job.

So he opened his mouth, and began.


	3. Part 3: The Past

_Part 3_

 _The Past_

Kuesh recited the story he had of which he had talked hundreds of times. He remembered it so well. He didn't think it could ever slip from his mind.

He told about the war between Dominaria and Phyrexia. He told about the endless wars, of Karn and Urza. Mirrodin, which was called New Phyrexia of late.

Then he told Kuesh about the Eldrazi, massive titans that consumed world without feeling.

About enemies, and friends.

"We are nowhere close to the first groups of planeswalkers to form like this. And I have the feeling we won't be the last. First there were the Nine, who destroyed original Phyrexia, cleansing them from the Multiverse." He paused, and his eyes grew vacant for a second, then he continued. "Then there was the Infinite Consortium."

Denitt's eyes narrowed in inquisition.

"Evil. All of it. The work of the Elder." And Kuesh said no more on that matter. "Then," he continued, there was the Gatewatch. A few team of a few ragtag planeswalkers from all over the Multiverse. They're all dead now."

Denitt looked shocked. "How?"

"Well," Kuesh replied,"there have been multiple versions of the Gatewatch in the millennia since its inception." He paused, deep in thought. "There were the original four, Gideon, Nissa, Jace, and Chandra. Gideon died in combat against Emrakul.

"The last Eldrazi titan, right?" Denitt interrupted.

"Yes. Nissa died… well, we shouldn't dwell on the horrific way she died so... Jace just disappeared. Everyone thinks he's dead and there's no reason to assume otherwise. And Chandra got on the wrong side of a few very powerful, and very angry, demons. They possessed her, and she, unfortunately, had to be put down by the first planewalkers of the Hideouts."

"So Jace… who is he?" Denitt inquired.

"He _was_ a very powerful telepath. Went toe to toe once with Kozilek, as a matter of fact. Survived it too. But… well, if you really want to know, I'll tell you when we get to Innistrad. There were some dark secrets lying about there hundreds of years ago, and honestly, not everyone who went to fix them could take the pressure. If that's what caused him to disappear, I can't blame him, honestly."

Denitt nodded.

Kuesh continued. "So, we can explain more on the way through the planes. I think you have a lot to learn."

Kuesh walked Denitt through Hopestream. They arrived back to Room 48. They stopped in front of the doorway, where Kuesh finally handed Denitt the keys to the room.

"So how many rooms are there, exactly?" Denitt asked.

"Not enough." Kuesh was staring at the door, as if with fond memories. Denitt interjected that moment.

"Did you… did someone live in this room before me?"

Kuesh looked down in minor surprise at such a pointed question. "Yes," he said. "He was a dear friend, and his _passing_ made a very large and very sad impact on my life."

Denitt coughed and looked away, a little embarrassed.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow." He looked at his arm, pulling back the sleeve on his long robes. There was a trinket on his arm. On the side was a single letter- N, but very complexly written, which was incredible, especially since the trinket might have passed for a rather large piece of currency back in Fardun.

"What is that?" Denitt asked. It luxury reminded him- he looked down at his own tattered clothing, surprised no one had mentioned anything about it that day. Now that he thought about it, everyone he had seen had had one of those devices on their arms.

"It's a clock. See?" He showed it to Denitt. In the center was a yellow painted circle, and around it orbited several other, smaller circles, each one painted a different color. Off to the side was a black sphere, with 5 dim lights around it, each one either white, grey, green, red, or turquoise. It stood out to Denitt for being one of the most complex parts of the clock.

One half of the entire thing was black, and the other white.

"These represent the major planes. Each one has its own sun. You'll get one of these clocks of your own when we complete that planar tour." He started to walk away. "You should have all the amenities in there," he said pointing to the door, and by extension the room. "If you don't, come find me in Room 72. I'll do something about it." His voice was fading. "Get sleep. I know this has been a big day, and a lot has happened, but the next few are going to be very important."

And with that, he disappeared around the corner, away from sight. Denitt took the strangely loud and obnoxiously large keys and opened the door. It was a small room, but larger than what Denitt had back on the Wor- He stopped himself midthought. Back on Arin.

The standard stone walls and wood floor. Off to the side was another small room, which he assumed to be the washroom. A comparatively large bed was in the corner, adorned by a ridiculous amount of blankets, as if the bed were placed in an overbearing tundra storm. To the left were wooden bookshelves, on top of which was a desk, and above that was more bookshelves. A drawer was at the foot of the bed. A small collection of candles pointed downwards from the ceiling, lighting the room. Every time a drop fell from it, it disappeared after two or three inches. The candles never seemed to run out of wick or wax. He blew on them, to see if they would even stop burning. They did, except for a single red ember. He blew on it again to completely extinguish it. To his amazement, the candles lit back up immediately and bathed the room in light once more. He was completely dumbfounded, but just chocked it up to being magic. He went to the bed and laid down in it, though he was not going to sleep just yet. He closed his eyes and thought about Hopestream, about the previous day's events, about Kuesh and Venser and the Eldrazi and Phyrexia and the Elder, whatever that was, and it swirled into one realization: His life had, in less than 48 hours, become chaos, all centered around Hopestream.

And now that was where he lived.

Denitt found out how to turn the bath on, and cleaned himself as best he could, but the tub was practically stained brown from all the dirt that had accumulated over a lifetime of sweat and toil in the mud. Next, Denitt looked around the room, and in the chest found a robe, like Kuesh and the others. He slid it on and threw his old clothes in, shutting the lid. He sat on the bed and looked around. He had nothing to his name. He looked down at his hands. They were empty. He imagined what he would soon be able to do, imaging what he had always heard of mages- fireballs, death magic, life magic, controlling the minds of others, saving people, or hurting them. Bringing peace or taking control. The possibilities swirled in his head. He put it in his hands, and thought. He thought of nothing in particular.

He lied down in bed, and pulled a single thin sheet over him, leaving the rest at the bed's end. He stared off. He blew at the candles. Somehow they felt it and the room went dark. Denitt closed his eyes, and slept.

"Wake."

A far-off voice beckoned to Denitt. It sounded like… did ice have a sound?

"I said-"

Denitt's eyes flew open. Of course everything had been a dream. He was still alive in the World. That was his father, most likely, calling to him now- right?

But there was nothing there. It was white, as far as the eye could see, a room or cavern with no dimension. Denitt stood, wearing the tatters he had worn not so long ago.

"Who…" Denitt asked, perplexed. He had never woken up to something like this.

"I beg of you, son, do not continue." It sounded like his father, but from where it came Denitt couldn't tell. It seemed to be all around him, a current of speech, like a river.

Reality his Denitt like a wall. Even the strangest things could be true. "My father is dead." Denitt paused. "Who are you?"

The room with no dimension turned black and cold. The floor became cragged and gray. A sky descended, lined with stars. Mountains sprang up from the ground, miles upon miles. Clouds shifted into view, wipsy, some obscuring the full moon. Trees littered everything, and smoke rose from fires past the ridges.

"Hello."

Denitt spun around. And there, in front of him, was a man. He was middle aged, yet he still had a strong physique. He wore golden armor swathed in purple and scarlet scarves. He had a flowing cape of black. His face looked kind, but serious. Firm, but not harsh.

"I." He paused. "I am the Elder."

Denitt looked on in horror.

"But you. You can call me…"

Denitt breath froze in his throat. But not literally.

"Nicol Bolas."

Denitt didn't know what to say next.

"I know you are a new planeswalker," Nicol said. "I won't trouble you with ancient witticisms or deceptive lies." He walked over the cliff edge. He sat down, half facing Denitt, who was looking around. Nicol's feet hung from the edge. Behind Denitt was a wall of stone, rising ever higher. Stone arch ways between that cliff face and the edge of the mountain on which Denitt and Bolas were cast great shadows across both of them.

"The people at Hopestream." He stopped and looked to Denitt. "They do not know how far their mistakes have entrenched themselves in the Multiverse. They are content to stay back and solve the small problems, but can never grasp the truth, the entire truth, of it all." He motioned his hands out grandly. "All of this." Nicol looked to Denitt. "Sit."

Denitt did, but far enough away to stay away from… from what? What was this "great villain" capable of? He couldn't be sure. He looked down at his own dangling feet and the rocks below that disappeared into green shrubbery.

"This is a land under siege by its own mad king. No one but me and a couple other planeswalkers have ever seen it. Now you have too."

"Am I really here?" Asked Denitt. "Physically?"

"No. You are still asleep at Hopestream. I have brought you in here only in your mind, but what you see is very real and happening at this very moment. I can't do that often, only between decades. But you are special. They've told you that no doubt."

"Why is this place so hard to reach?"

"Well, Denitt, it's because this plane is so far away from the others. It would take thousands of years to travel here, even if you travelled as fast as possible. If you walked through every plane and only spent minutes on each one, still it would consume 10,000 mortal lifetimes."

"What do you want with me?"

"Denitt, even if they are fools, they are not lying to you."

"Who?"

"Kuesh. Venser. That moonfolk sage, and Desha."

"Not lying…?"

"Inquisitive?" Nicol quipped. "Not surprising. What I mean is- I am who they say I am. I have put into place so many plans, conspiracies- I've pulled the rug out from under so many civilizations, and toppled empires. I controlled the Eldrazi and came mere minutes from annihilating Alara. I have done so many wrong and wretched things in my life."

Denitt watched him stop talking, Nicol's mouth slightly open, as if there was so much more to say that just wasn't coming out.

"But you've turned around? Stopped your ways?" Denitt hoped, a small smile stretching his face minutely.

Nicol looked out to the vista, to the trees and mountains and smoke and clouds and stars and said, decisively- "No." He paused. "Never." He paused again. "It is who I am, and even if I wanted to, I never could. The scars I have left on the Multiverse will never, ever leave. They will stay sure as existence itself."

Now Denitt looked away out to the vista as well. He settled on a small encampment settled in an outcropping of rock. Undead were overrunning it, it seemed, spreading throughout the few crude houses, ripping hinges open, chasing runners down. He could hardly see, but there were dozens of people fleeing. Some stood and fought. They were cut down. All of this chaos was happening in only a few seconds.

The realization dawned on Denitt. "Did you do this?"

"No."

"Then why now, what is so important…?"

"I thought this was as good a time as any."

"So what do you want to say to me?"

"To leave. Don't come find me. Don't fight me. Don't stop what I have created. Even as far away as this, I control the Multiverse. I can be anywhere in it in hours. I could destroy you, destroy Hopestream. I want to warn you, because I think you're worth warning."

"And to answer your question," he continued,"I did do... this." He emphasized the last word with gusto.

He snapped.

A great light filled the sky, as bright as ten suns. The ground turned ice cold. Denitt put his hand in front of his eyes, but was blinded still. It was so large, the light. It became larger, and larger still. The ground was so frigid, like ice.

"This is a warning to you." Denitt was suddenly dragged away from the edge, backwards. He kicked out his feet, squirming. What could he do to defend himself? Then his body went stiff. He collapsed. He couldn't move.

A face came into his vision. It was scaly, horned…

A dragon, that's what it was.

Denitt looked on in horror.

"If I can do this to an entire plane-"

Denitt's hands and feet burned from the cold.

"Imagine what I could do to you. Do. Not. Try me."

And the the world fell in on itself.

Denitt exploded awake, his mind collapsing. He fell out of bed onto the wooden floors. He crawled to his feet, and stumbled forward towards the door. He nudged the door knob open and fell through the doorway. Light streamed in from above, from the roof of the hallway- the pale light of early morning.

He could hear footsteps coming. His mind turned. He tried to think, but all he could think of was that flash, the cold, and a dragon's face, scaly and horrific.

"Denitt?" Voices slurred from the edge of vision, of hearing. "What"

"Are-"

"Doing?" It was all the same voice, chopped and muddy.

"STOP!" Denitt could hear himself yelling now.

"Den-"

"Needs… help…!" The voice was exasperated, worried.

Everything slowed. Denitt looked at the ground. He edged his way onto his feet, only to collapse sideways against the wall. Darkness closed in.

Death itself seemed to close in.

Denitt felt hands on him, but was helpless to stop it.

He left the void of unconsciousness take him, and the whole world became black.

-3/12/16- _**End of Part 3**_


	4. Part 4: The Future

_Part 4_

 _The Future_

Once again, Nicol Bolas visited Denitt in his dreams. But this time, it was different. It was just a face, the dragon's face. There was no warning, no message. He imagined that must have been the true face of Bolas. He had never been told Bolas had taken the form of a dragon.

Come to think of it, he thought in his darkened stupor, they never told me Bolas's real name. He told Denitt himself.

But there was more than the face. There was the man, who said he was Nicol. Was he really? And could any being destroy a world- an entire plane?

Denitt rethought the question.

If they could, and it mustn't be easy, why would they do it so flippantly. He imagined this would be the part where he would put his head in his hands in exasperation. But… well, he couldn't right now.

Darkness faded back in, and so too did uncertainty. That was the end of conscious thought for Denitt. He drifted off into dreams.

Those dreams were not interrupted by Nicol Bolas. Nor by memories of his parents, who had died only a couple days prior. Now, they were filled with strange, desperate pleas.

A world stretched upward in spire-like buildings.

Now Denitt was there in person. He strolled around. The citizenry talked amongst each other. He caught the small talk of a normal day. Clouds drifted in the sky. A minotaur wearing an emblazoned breastplate walked past, heaving a massive mace. Denitt watched as they passed. A fist surrounded by a star, that's what it had been. Denitt looked around once more. Posters filled the area that must have been a market. Posters hung from the wall in an alien language that seemed to shift randomly between decipherable language and its opposite. Grandiose pictures took up almost all the posters' space. They all depicted a vampire being slain by a human in a heroic gesture.

Then, out of nowhere, a being appeared, running into the market to the extreme shock of the rest of the residing populace. Their true form was muffled by the vagueness that a dream carries with it.

"Please." The form spoke with a woman's voice, to no one in particular. Then the being started to become clearer. It was a human woman donned in a blue cape. Blood was splattered across it. They seemed to be dressed up in warrior's garb, but she no longer had a helmet. Then her face came into view- brown eyes, one covered in bandage. Blood streaked down her face too, from a gash hidden somewhere in here hair, which was covered by a skin-tight hood.

She was definitely a sight. People stared in confusion and terror.

"Help me…" she seemed near collapsing, but no one rushed to help her. Then five masked figures descended into the square brandishing massive, yet thin, blades. Their masks portrayed skulls or human faces in various stages of anguish.

People screamed, scattering. One man dropped change in front of one of the figures, begging them not to take his life. The person shoved him out of the way and lifted his blade towards the woman. She looked down.

Still, no one turned towards Denitt.

"Lavinia. Asking the common people for help? Do you realize where you are? Who owns this turf?" One of them said. Their voice was gritty and annoyed.

"Yes," the woman, Lavinia, said. She paused and took out her sword from its scabbard resting on her side. One of the five figures from behind chuckled. "Isperia will be here soon. And she will relieve you all of your pathetic lives," Lavinia snarled.

"Cute." The figure stepped forward, closer to her. All the others did so too, in unison.

"So," Lavinia said,"you all wanna fight?" She lowered her sword. "You'll need more-"

The dream faded to black.

The world did not wait for Denitt. It came screaming back with a vengeance. Everything became so loud, so incredibly loud. Then it went silent, and Denitt bolted up in bed. He looked around. It seemed like an infirmary. Denitt looked to the right and saw a needle in his arm connected to a pack to his side filled with a glowing blue liquid. It seemed to churn.

Then, someone walked in the room. No- two.

Denitt looked to the left and saw Kuesh and Desha taking a stroll, but they jumped when they saw Denitt awake.

Everyone was silent. All three exchanged nervous glances.

"Er…" Kuesh said. "I think we need to talk."

Denitt got out of the infirmary bed. He still had small pangs of pain in his head, but he had never felt more well rested in his life.

"I'll talk to you later," said Desha.

"Okay," said Kuesh, seeming annoyed but vastly relieved. And with that, Desha strolled from the room.

Denitt realized Kuesh was holding something. It was the robes. He was holding them out for Denitt to take.

And Denitt did.

While he was getting dressed in his proper clothing, and not the monowhite hospital garb he was wearing, Kuesh spoke.

"So, you've been asleep for four days."

"What…?" Denitt paused in shock.

"I know… it must be surprise. But everyone's been wondering, and we all swore if we were the first ones in the room when you woke up we'd ask. Even though we're all afraid of the answer- what had you been dreaming about?"

Denitt finished dressing.

"Um…" He debated in his mind for a split second whether he should even say. He decided he might as well. " … Nicol Bolas," he said, wondering how Kuesh would respond.

"I see. Then what?"

"Well, I was on this plane. I didn't hear its name or anything. It was forest and mountains all around. I was on top of this huge one, a mountain. And Nicol was there, saying that…" Denitt closed his eyes. He felt the pain returning, but it was only him imagining it back. "He said that I shouldn't find him."

Denitt realized Kuesh was carrying a board of wood with papers pinned to it. Kuesh was looking at it. "Continue," Kuesh said calmly.

"Then there was a massive ball of light on the horizon."

Kuesh looked up, taking a pencil out of his coat and writing on the papers. "I see. And tell me, Denitt- did the ground and air become cold? Did the light grow; become blinding?"

Denitt stared in disbelief. "Y-yes. It did."

"Denitt," Kuesh said,"I need you to listen now." He sighed, and leaned down slightly so both their eyes could meet. "There are some beings in the Multiverse, the Elder-"

"Why do you call him that? Why not just call him Nicol Bolas?"

"We simply don't. Anyway, he and a select few beings are our enemies. You will learn, soon, who they are." He stood back up. "This Multiverse needs heroes. We think… we think you can be one. We think you can defeat the Elder. Not single handedly. But someday, you'll make your own team of Arinites. And they will destroy the Elder. That is why he's worried. He knows that someday, you'll succeed. And he wants to scare you early. He wants to terrify you."

"I don't understand," Denitt said. He put his head in his hands. How could so much happen so fast? More things of note had happened in the last 6 days than had happened in Denitt's whole life.

"Believe, Denitt." Kuesh smiled. "Come with me."

Denitt and Kuesh walked outside into the hallways. "Pheris, the doc, says you're alright. No permanent damage, or anything. You should be fine right now, actually. Well rested I would hope."

Denitt grabbed at Kuesh's hand and stopped him, words already in his mouth. "Kuesh. There's something I need to tell you."

"Uh… what? What is it?"

"I had another dream. After I collapsed from the one where I met Bolas."

"And?"

"Lavinia. Who is that? I was in this market, I guess on some plane, and-"

"You heard Lavinia? Uh… she's dead. Strange you had a dream of someone who lived so long ago. Not unheard of though."

"Wait- what? Dead? For how long?" Denitt could only imagine the look of shock on his face.

"Decades. Centuries. Incredibly long. Her death is still a mystery."

"Really? Because I saw it pretty clearly-"

"What?" Now Kuesh looked shocked. "You saw her death?"

"Uh… yes. I did," Denitt said.

"Come with me. I think a lot of people are going to be very, very interested in every detail you provide."

Kuesh took Denitt on a walk away from wherever the two were supposed to go moments before. The passed through several tunnels, then out onto a balcony, on the other side of Hopestream. At least a dozen laboratory benches and tables were set up there, some in various states of disarray but most pristine. At a few were ostensibly Hopestream members performing experiments. One caught Denitt's eye and particular.

Yataeso, a human, and a vampire were crowded around one table while Yataeso poured incremental amounts of an unidentifiable lucent liquid into a glass while the other two watched. He was wearing goggles that reflected the glow of the liquid.

Kuesh saw them, too. "Yataeso!" He shouted.

Yataeso still faced the glass but stole a glance over, then looked back to the glass and poured the glass agonizingly slow, but purposefully and carefully.

When he finally stopped, he looked over. "Yes?" He inquired. He leaned foward and rested his hands on the table. Denitt noticed he had his large, paddle-like ears wrapped back behind his head.

"Denitt here," he said, stretching his arms out to Denitt as if he were presenting the young man,"has some information for you. I think you're going to want to hear it."

"Excuse me, please," Yataeso said. The two others moved over.

"Be quick," the vampire said.

Yataeso looked back for a second. "Sure."

He strolled up to Denitt and Kuesh. "This oughta be important he said," removing his goggles and placing them on a nearby stool.

"Denitt… er…" Kuesh didn't know how Yataeso would take but the news, but he decided it would be worse if he just said nothing. "Denitt knows who killed Lavinia."

Yataeso looked down to Denitt, dumbfounded. Denitt looked out to the unsure horizon and felt his face growing red. "I- I-" he stammered. "I never said that! I just said I saw her death!"

Yataeso looked to Kuesh. "Are you sure," he asked. "You had best not be fooling with me."

"I swear, said Kuesh.

"Child," Yataeso said,"what do you know?"

"I was in this market, surrounded by huge towers, then Lavinia ran in, all bloodied, like she'd been in battle, and she asked for help. No one did. Then five people descended into the market, and they talked, then everything went black. But it seemed like they were about to fight."

"What were the figures wearing?"

"Masks. These horrific masks. And capes. All black clothing, like they were shrouded in darkness."

"I thought so. For 112 years they lied to me."

"It was the Dimir, then, wasn't it?" Kuesh asked.

Yataeso got a distant look in his eyes, then turned to the human and vampire. "I must… this demonstration will continue in a few days. I'm afraid other business is going to be taking my time until then." And then he was off running, no, sprinting, down the tone hallways, on the wooden floors.

Kuesh protested. "Please, Yataeso, don't be so rash! Don't go alone! They will destroy you! Please!"

But it was too late. Yataeso removed his heavy coat and untied his ears, which fell down.

He shoved open the heavy metal doors, and was gone.

Denitt looked up worriedly to Kuesh, who was running his hands through his hair.

"Uh… Kuesh." It was a voice from behind. The vampire. "So… we kind of… that was a bad time."

Denitt turned around to see the vampire shrug.

"Not now, Vura," Kuesh said, running his fingers through his hair. "Denitt, you need to speak to him right now. Tell him everything you know. It would mean a lot."

"Okay," Denitt said, walking off.

"You'll probably find him in his room, thinking about how to… er, just find him, alright?" Kuesh's voice was fading. "Room 14, okay?"

Denitt reached the giant wooden doors that had shut already and pushed them open again. They weighed so much, but he was still able to pass through.

Finding the room was not very easy. After some asking for directions and meandering lost through several hallways, Denitt found his way to Room 14.

What was he supposed to do now? Knock? Ask Yataeso what was happening? What terms were they even on? He couldn't be sure.

He decided to raise his fist, and lightly tap on the door a few times.

Then he waited and thought about his last decision, which had probably been a mistake.

No one answered the door after a little while, so he knocked again. After the same amount of time, still no answer.

"Er…" Denitt leaned closer to the door. "Yataeso? Uh, Kuesh wanted me to just kinda stop by. I think he's concerned you might leave or something. And I don't think he wants that.

Only silence came from the room.

Denitt pushed on the door a little, and it swung ajar. He looked down in shock. "Uh…" He stepped forward a little bit.

Denitt shoved the door open and saw a room in a tidy kind of disarray. Papers were scattered around in little piles, quills covered a desk on the other end of the room. The bed had a disheveled cloak on it. The bookshelves were entirely full, near to bursting. It looked like a room that hadn't seen the conflict on the balcony, like a room that was expected to go back to.

But certainly, Yataeso was not there.

Denitt went to the bookshelves. Where had Yataeso gone, then? Had he planeswalked to the place with the spires, the massive city? Was he off stewing somewhere in Hopestream? What was his relation to this Lavinia? That was the most important question to him.

Denitt looked around the room. The disheveled robe. A cabinet full of papers, across which were strewn myriad equations. A box, labeled Memories in sharp, neat ink. A bottle of bl-

A box labeled "Memories"?

Denitt wanted to look. But he shouldn't- right?

He slowly walked to his, each step more tentative than the last. He stole glances over to the door, as if expecting Yataeso to walk in at any moment. He clapped lightly and the room was drenched in light.

He finally reached the box. He looked over it.

Reaching a hand out, he gripped the edge of the lid. The box was made of some kind of hardwood.

Denitt removed the lid, which was surprising light and looked inside.

Sheets of paper. Notes. Books. Collections of miscellaneous periodicals with names like "Hanweir Chronicles" and "Ravnica this Week", among others. But most notably were inked sketches. One was peeking out of the clutter, in the very corner of the receptacle.

He lightly pulled it from its prison and saw it was blank.

No. He turned it around. There it was- Yataeso. And the woman he had seen in his dream, Lavinia. Both of them stood there, smiling, holding hands. It was on a bridge, in a park. Denitt examined it closer. The spires of the city Denitt had been in rose into the sky behind large trees.

There was no color to the image but the outlining was unmistakable. Even Lavinia could be deciphered, outside of her armor and hood.

They both looked so ha-

There was a clapping and the lights turned off.

Denitt gulped. Could it be…?

"So, he's not here, huh?" It was Kuesh.

Denitt snapped up faster than lightning, gingerly sticking the paper in the box and closing the lid. He turned around. There Kuesh was, leaning against the doorframe. He was cloaked in shadow. Denitt could hardly make him out but the voice was unmistakable.

"Er- no. No, he's not here. And he wasn't when I got here either." Denitt could feel himself getting more nervous.

"Alright. Cool. Just checking back on ya. We're leaving tomorrow, by the way. Venser is very… uh, he very determined that I give you a tour of the Multiverse. Its major planes, anyway."

"Okay," Denitt said, not sure exactly how to respond.

"I'll see you around. Acquaint yourself with some more people while you're here," Kuesh said.

"Okay."

And with that, Kuesh ducked around the doorway and was gone.

There was almost no way that he hadn't seen Denitt looking at the picture right?

He started walking towards the door.

Kuesh suddenly popped back into sight. "Also," he said,"if you want an explanation of all… all that, we can discuss it tomorrow. I guess."

And he left again.

Denitt walked around Hopestream. He didn't really talk to anyone, he just strolled around and thought. He didn't think of much. He spent a lot of time staring out at the sunset, the inspiring yet dread-inducing awe.

A couple hours had passed. It seemed that night time had to be coming soon. He left the deck he had been standing on and went inside. He looked side to side, down the hallway next to the balcony. No one was in either direction. He walked in and took a right, back the way he had come.

He passed a woman in the hallway. She was leaning against the wall behind her, looking over a scroll. She glanced up as Denitt passed. He nodded at her, but she was already looking down at the scroll again.

Denitt came to a door and pushed it open. Now, he was in another hallway, down which half the lodging rooms were set.

After strolling down the corridor, and another beyond that, he wound up back at the infirmary. He heard whispering inside. He wasn't one to pry, but…

He sidled up to a doorway, out of sight. But he could hear the conversation beyond it clearly. Two men, mid-conversation.

"-boy is clearly clairvoyant."

"Don't be so sure yet." The second voice sounded familiar.

"Well, if Yataeso comes back telling us all about the Dimir and Lavinia and all that business, then-"

"He won't." Denitt realized- it was Kuesh. The former sighed inaudibly.

"And what makes you so certain?"

"I saw her die. I was in that crowd, you know."

"Yes, yes. But what if he does manage to break the curse? He spent hundreds of years trying to figure it out."

"It doesn't matter. Even if he broke the curse, she would just collapse and die in front of him. Die for real this time. It's best that he doesn't even get to Lavinia."

Now a third voice chimed in. It too sounded familiar. "I agree with Kuesh."

Denitt realized who this too was. "It could have been a coincidence," Desha said.

"Really? An event he never heard about on a plane nigh foreign to him."

"Vura-" Wasn't that the vampire Denitt had seen on the balcony that afternoon, rigging up some kind of chemical with Yataeso? "-you have to understand-"

Vura cut Kuesh off. "Consider this. What if, and you know I hate to say this, but what if the Elder put the thought in his head? What if he wants to bait Yataeso to Ravnica just to kill him?"

"Yataeso wouldn't be that dumb," Kuesh said.

"We're all puppets for Bolas. Don't act like we're beyond any of his machinations."

"Listen!" Desha declared. "What if we all go there to cover for him? Certainly the Elder couldn't take us all on, especially in the middle of Ravnica."

"Perhaps," Vura said, contemplatively. "Very well."

There was the sound of scuffling feet, then it stopped.

"But not you, Kuesh. Desha and I will go. You still need to take Denitt on the tour."

"Very well. Very well. Still tomorrow?"

"Remind me- did Pheris clear him?"

"Yes."

"Then absolutely. As soon as possible."

"Okay."

Again there was the shuffling of feet, and Denitt realized in shock it meant they were leaving the room. He scrambled as quiet as he could around the next hallway corner, and kept running until he got to his room.

He threw open the door and walked in. There was something on his bed now. The door closed behind him as he went to the bed.

The package was relatively small, wrapped in parchment and tied up with twine. He shuffled the twine off the parchment, which fell away.

It was two books. On one was a slip of paper- a note. It read, in plain lettering: "Journals. Use these well- they are the cornerstones of advanced thought in Hopestream. They mean more than pages here- they mean the summation of thought and ideas. -Friend from the Outside".

Denitt blinked at the note. It didn't really do anything. He felt something on the back and flipped it over. A pencil. A stump of graphite neatly wrapped in wood. It was strapped to the journal by a piece of some sticky blue substance. He pulled it away with some of the note, which he threw onto his bookshelf. He sat down on his bed with the journals and pencil. He spun the pencil around in his hand. So light. He stared at the first journal. Blue, with a black binding. It had three white dots across the top. Except for those, the face was completely blank. He slid it to the back and looked at the second. It looked exactly the same except for a large black line down the middle, written into which was a symbol, a triangle split into three parts with a maze-like design in the middle. In the center was another triangle.

Denitt opened it and a slip of paper fell down, stuck to the inside by a string. Denitt reached a hand down and inspected it.

 _Ravnican Papery and Books, Tin Street. Acid-free. 200 pgs. From non-recyclable sources. Contains some magical potency. C.T. recommends not using the book for summoning servant forces- spells in this realm may backfire on the user. RAVNICAN PAPERY AND BOOKS IS A PROUD MEMBER OF THE ORZHOV BANK AND TRADING SYSTEM. SHOP UNDER PROTECTION BY THE BRAVE MEN AND WOMEN OF THE WOJEK LEGION. Ravnican Papery and Books owned by Calvis Terrana._

Denitt tore it from the book and threw it onto the bookshelf atop the note. He closed the journal and slip it onto the top most shelf. He tried to do the same with the other, but it slid off onto the floor. He got off the bed and leaned over to pick it up.

There was a knock at the door. Denitt shot straight up. There was a second knock.

"Denitt?" It was Kuesh.

"Yes?" Denitt replied. He knelt to pick up the book. He slid it next to the other book already on the shelf.

"Dinner is almost ready. Come join the rest of us."

"Okay," Denitt said, but there was no response. Kuesh had left.

Denitt got up and straightened his cloak. Was it really expected that he had to keep it on all the time? It was heavy, and, frankly, he imagined it would not be helpful in some kind of arcane combat, if it was anything like what he had heard stories of before.

Denitt walked out of his room to an empty hallway. He stared down it for a second before he started walking.


	5. Part 5: Zendikar

_Part 5_

 _Zendikar_

"So, just to let you know, I hate Zendikar." Kuesh looked at Denitt for a brief moment before turning away.

"Why?" Denitt asked.

They were both in the planeswalking room. Kuesh was fiddling with a couple rather large packs. Slung on them were several ropes and climbing gear as well as some bedding and food.

Kuesh was in the process of stuffing some small metal container into one of the packs, the smaller one Denitt presumed was his.

The room was completely white, covered in some kind of ceramic, but it made everything feel strange- dulling the senses. Denitt assumed the stone was probably just enchanted, removing magic from the room.

"Lot of bad memories there. When you get there you'll see why."

"Okay." Denitt didn't really know what to say other than that.

The room was filled with silence as Denitt looked around, rocking back and forth on his feet, excited but nervous.

"Now, as is standard with all new or in-training planeswalkers, I'm going to assist you through a tour of the Multiverse, alright?" Kuesh arched his eyebrows at Denitt, who was currently staring off into space. "Alright?" Kuesh but a little for force behind his words this time, and Denitt looked up.

"Yes," he said, unsure.

"Okay. On our journeys I will teach you the essence of magic and how to wield it, till soon you are an adept prowess we desire you to be, and so you can protect yourself from the evils of the Multiverse."

Denitt realized it sounded as if Kuesh was reading off a memorized checklist. He had almost certainly done this several times before.

"Our first stop is Zendikar. It is a rugged plane where gravity does not always work, which causes stone to float and shift. You will need to master the mountains and terrain, you will need to master nature itself, to survive there. Understand."

Kuesh now had Denitt's full attention. "Yes."

"Alright." Kuesh pulled the strings tighter on both packs and handed the smaller of the two to Denitt, who shouldered it.

"Now, planeswalking is often easy, but it takes a small amount of time and a large amount of concentration. To do it, imagine in your head the place you want to planeswalk to. Right now, image a large hut, covered in metal walls. Imagine the place you think of behind two windows, outside of which rise several trees, and beyond that, you see a cliff drop off into nothing. A valley is in the distance, green, with rivers running through it. Can you see it all?"

"I… yes?" Denitt had shut his eyes and was concentrating on trying to conjure the space that was just described around him.

"Now, go there. Think of nothing else but there, that place in the hut by the cliff. Simply imagine yourself being there."

Now Kuesh's voice was starting to fade away, replaced by a droning noise, almost total.

"Just keep thinking of it, until you're there. Concentrate and think of nothing el-" Now Kuesh's voice had become indistinguishable from the void. Noise, total and complete, enveloped Denitt like ice. He opened his eyes and saw a terribly bright light in front of him. He blinked and realized it wasn't just in front of him, but all around.

Suddenly, it began fading. The light gave way to gray, then some kind of darkness. A strange shuffle could be heard all around, along with voices. A cold feeling gripped Denitt. He thought he had reached the end, that this was it. Had he done it so wrong? Would it cost him his life, where would he end up, what would he do?

He had thought all this is mere half-seconds as the realization of what all three he felt and heard actually were.

Wind whipped through the trees.

Denitt actually began to look around and realized it was nighttime, and there he was, in a hut. Wind came in through its two windows.

Denitt turned around just in time to see someone burst in through the door.

He couldn't see their face; they were shrouded in night.

"Another one, eh? You here for the little tour, I assume?"

Denitt was speechless. "I… I guess…?"

"Where's Kuesh?"

"Uh… you know Kuesh?"

"'Course kid, everyone knows Kuesh."

Just then, the room filled with light, illuminating the face in front of Denitt. A grinning face looked back at him- an elf.

The light faded as quick as it had come. Denitt turned around.

And there was Kuesh.

"Hello," he said.

"Hey hey!" the elf said.

The room lit up with light again. Kuesh was holding up his hand, which itself was holding up a ball of light. Kuesh walked past Denitt and to the elf.

"Hi, Suris, this is Denitt."

"Hello, Denitt."

"Uh…" Denitt stammered. "Hi." He didn't know what to say. He looked off to the side.

"Well," Kuesh said,"we should probably show you around the village."

It was a quaint thing, with elves roaming around, and small crowds thinning to only a couple members as their members went home, the sign that the day was coming to its end. Denitt, Kuesh and the elf walked around to the village center. The whole trip took a few minutes; though it was a village it had many components, houses, inns, pubs, and buildings of artisanry among them. Large stone and wood buildings stretched a couple stories up, and the uncobbled dirt roads crunched beneath the feet of the inhabitants that walked over it.

Kuesh and the elf talked along the way, about how the other was doing, big developments in their lives, small talk, and finally-

"So, your name's Denitt, huh?" The two were walking in front of Denitt so the elf had to cock his head to the side to ask the question.

"Yes. I am."

"Interesting. 'Spose I should introduce myself. I am Marik," he explained,"Vice Leader of the Tree of Novelition, second Archmage-"

"Archmage," Denitt interrupted. He felt like he shouldn't presume, and yet… "Aren't elves really, I guess, in tune with nature? I mean, being a mage or wizard or stuff like that…"

"You're correct. It's not a normal occupation for an elf, and that's unfortunate. But I feel like knowing is half the journey. I can still respect the wild as I respect knowledge. Water feeds the tree. It is the tree's duty to repay in kind."

"I suppose."

"Regardless, my jobs are myriad. Perhaps it would be easier to explain another time; some things are too complicated to explain so hastily."

And with that, they arrive at the village center, where sat a large square with a massive bonfire in the middle, lighting everything in a soft orange flame. At least a few hundred elves were scattered around, speaking in groups in the square's mighty area.

"Follow me, Denitt." Now it was Kuesh who spoke, directing the trio to an indistinguishable wood and stone building on the furthest edge of the pavilion. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like all the others.

They walked past several whispering citizens on their way, each saying something a little different, but all to the same effect- "There is an outsider here." Denitt felt more and more uneasy by the second, and his pack began to weigh on him.

Finally they arrived. Marik pushed the door open, and Denitt and Kuesh followed as well.

Inside was a large space, where everything was made of a kind of amber wood.

A warm, stone hearth sat in front of a couch that looked terribly comfortable. A staircase led up to a darkened second floor at the hearth's opposite.

"Please, just leave your things on the couch, er… this was all a little unexpected. I suppose it usually is, but… yeah." Marik wrung his hands, then moved into across the room and through a door.

"Come on." Kuesh walked over to the couch and threw his pack onto it. It hit the fabric with a resounding thump.

Denitt followed suit.

What would have been a bright noon at Hopestream was now replaced by the candlelit night of Zendikar.

The room beyond the foyer, Denitt found, was actually a dining room. A discarded sword stood forlornly against the side wall, near the table in the middle of the room. Near the table was a window, out of which Denitt looked out. Large floating stones were lit hauntingly by the moon's light, harbingers of… something.

"Hey," Denitt asked, looking back to Kuesh, who was sitting, staring at a series of papers covered in numerical script,"what are those stones."

Kuesh chuckled. "Oh, those are the hedrons. Constructed thousands of years ago by Nahiri. She was a famous lithomancer from Zendikar, also a planeswalker."

"What did they _do_ , though?"

"Well," Kuesh explained,"they kept the Eldrazi asleep. For a good while, anyway. Sorin Markov, the old vampire, and Ugin, as well as Nahiri, used the hedrons to make the titans fall asleep underground."

"Oh." Denitt couldn't help but look at their awesome shape. Triangular prisms and rectangular prisms and irregular objects jutted from their surfaces, each a master class in technique. For a second, Denitt imagined how it must have taken its makers hundreds of years to craft.

 _Or,_ he thought to himself, _one expert planeswalker, with experience._ He thought to the immense swaths of work ahead of him, how important the position of "planeswalker" must be, and yet how little he knew.

Planeswalkers could reach into people's minds, they could heal the dying, they could solve incredible mysteries.

 _And what can I do?_

The night went by quicker than Denitt expected. Kuesh spoke to him at the table over a solemn dinner.

"Tomorrow we leave on an adventure," he said, taking a bite of some foreign meat.

Denitt looked down at his plate. "Okay."

There was a pause.

"So, I do this all the time, but I must ask- and of course you don't have to answer, but…" Marik began to speak, and Denitt felt a strange notion that he knew what question was about to come from the elf's mouth.

"Dead. Parents. Dead parents," Denitt said, connecting the two words together.

"Ooh. A clairvoyant?" Marik looked over to a scowling Kuesh.

"You should stop that. It only gets more frustrating every time you do it," Kuesh said, annoyed.

"Either way," Marik said, turning back to Denitt,"sad stuff." Marik got up from the table and carried his empty plate into the kitchen, putting it in a water-filled reservoir and rinsing before putting it on a small wooden rack.

"Think I'm going to turn in for the night. You two find you rooms. I trust you remember where your room is, Kuesh?"

But he turned away before Kuesh could even answer.

Marik walked up the stairs, and was out of sight.

Less than an hour later the two walked upstairs as well and came upon two rooms.

"The further one down the hall is yours. Go to bed soon, you'll need the rest," Kuesh said, more sternly than he intended.

He walked away into his room and closed the door gently, leaving Denitt alone on a foreign world.

Sleep was not an easy commodity to come by recently. Especially for Denitt, for whom every day was like a swirl of unexpectedness- so many leagues different than his life in the swamps. Everything seemed to go by in a blur. He despised it and yet at the same time wished for more, to go to the ends of the Multiverse and uncover its mysteries. Was he really the harbinger everyone seemed to declare him as? He was just a boy caught in a tempest of things so much larger than him.

The room he was sleeping in was quaint. Moonlight and the dying light of the bonfire outside streamed through the window onto Denitt's face.

He rolled over and closed his eyes. Now darkness was complete, and for once, Denitt did not dream.

"Wake up!"

Denitt's eyes shot open. Was this actually a dream? There was a blinding light in front of his eyes, so bright! And the voice, so ominous and so far away called to Denitt.

"Good thing you're awake. Let's begin."

Something large hit Denitt in the head.

"Oh dear I'm so sorry."

Denitt reached up to rub his forehead- no. This wasn't a dream. Denitt's eyes refocused.

A stream of sunlight was coming in through the window in Denitt's room.

"Urgh… why in the hell would you…" Denitt staggered out.

Kuesh had done it.

Denitt got up from bed. The thing that had been thrown at him was the pack from yesterday. He reached out and grabbed it, heavy though it was. He slung it around his back.

"Come on," Kuesh said, waving his hand towards the door and promptly walking out of it himself. Denitt followed along.

Downstairs Denitt saw Marik sitting at the table, which had stacks of food on it.

Denitt dropped his things, lightly, and walked to the table and sat down at it, staring up intently at Marik.

"Well, I'm not shovelling it into your mouth," Marik said smugly.

Denitt squinted his eyes. "Who are you, Marik?"

Marik looked surprised. "What do you mean ' _who are you_ '?"

"Why are you helping me?" Denitt asked.

Marik chuckled. "I don't know. I guess some things just have to be done, Denitt. You get that- right?"

"I mean, I guess," he said.

Breakfast passed in silence. No want really wanted to say anything. But when it was over, all three got up, and tow grabbed their packs.

"I'll be seeing you then," Marik said, and Kuesh shuffled Denitt out the door in the village square, which was mostly empty except for what looked like a small group of noblemen and a couple ragged beggars.

"Follow me, Kuesh said." He started walking.

Denitt looked around one more time at the inconspicuous stone and wood houses, the ornate pattern around the pyre, and the elves milling about through whatever an elf's day comprised of on Zendikar.

And on Denitt went.

They walked through several peculiar places on their way through the village. Some markets selling wares, the likes of which Denitt had never seen.

Murals covered some walls, painted across which were four figures, each in a different solid color. Above them were three other creatures, monsters, Denitt thought, and most likely the Eldrazi. Other murals consisted of an odd sword, out of which grew an entire forest, wielded by a single figure in the bottom left of the art.

Soon they reached the outskirts of town. They received strange looks from some elves, but other than that no one had seemed to care. They passed into a treeline, and were gone.


	6. Part 6: Something Darker Lurks

_Part 6_

 _Something Darker Lurks Underneath_

"I never thought I'd be doing this again."

He put on the familiar helmet, and no one else in the battalion seemed like they wanted to ask questions, which was just fine with him.

He swung the cape around and clipped it on. He had to keep mind of his ears, lest they slip out and come into contact with the sharper edges of a sword.

"Alright!" Two humans walked around and in front of the dozen or so soldiers arranged in a line before the cathedral.

One of them was speaking. Likely because the other had a frankly ridiculous set of armor on. It'd be incredible if they could speak through it. Regardless…

"So, we've gotten word that this cathedral is swarming with the enemy, and they must-" she repeated-" _must_ be dealt with! Understand?"

Everyone nodded their heads and readied their weapons.

Yataeso looked around at the spires of Ravnica one more time before joining into the fray, and leaping through the windows of the Third Cathedral of New Orzhova.

Denitt hated to be a bother, but he had to ask- "How much further, Kuesh?"

They had been walking for the better part of the day, and still the forest did not subsume. Where even were they?

When Denitt had been told about Zendikar, he had been told about incredible rock spires that reached towards the sky, and, sure, he had been told about its forests as well, but he longed for the imaginary mountain passes that opened into endless canyons and nigh-infinite vistas, through which ran pristine rivers.

Had the Eldrazi really taken so much from this plane, that not even its beauty could withstand their hunger?

He pushed the thought out of his head. Unlikely. The Eldrazi were massive, destructive titans. He hadn't been told they could dispose of entire planes. Perhaps they could. Perhaps his thoughts of Zendikar were childish and stu-

"We won't get to the Eye for a good while. What do you want to talk about? Ask away, the history of the Multiverse is still so wide to a mind such as yours that is so fresh to experiencing it." Kuesh's answer did not satiate Denitt, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

"I mean…" he didn't really know what to talk about. He thought for a second. "Tell me about… Alara." He hadn't heard that one yet, beside the name, of course.

"Well, thousands of years ago, the plane of Alara was one whole place, a massive and complex land, some say was even larger than Arin itself. It had so much mana, most Planeswalkers contended to take hold of it and channel it into themselves, and ascend all others, for no matter how much anyone might say, when you can live near forever, all that matters is that you become the most powerful before you die." He paused and took a deep and distressed breath.

"Anyway," he continued,"villains wanted it too, evil beings that cared for no one else. And who most fits that bill that you know of, the legend that is hated by all except his most devoted followers?"

Denitt didn't even have to think. "Nicol Bolas."

"Precisely. He went to Alara determined to devour its mana, even if it destroyed the plane itself. And he nearly succeeded, but he made a terrible miscalculation, despite what he might huff about his infinite wisdom- on a plane that big, anyone who absorbs so much mana as that would make it unstable, and it would explode. And it did. Into five different pieces, each of which contained only three colors of mana. Bant, Jund, Grixis, Naya, and Esper. This event is called 'The Sundering'. It was a time of chaos and destruction, and created the shards themselves.

"Bant, a place of nobility, of expansive seas and soaring minds, or justice, but also a place that followed an oppressive caste system; if one was born into a lower class, they most likely stayed there for most of their lives.

"Jund, a wild, mad place. There is no civilization in Jund, only chaos. It is, or was, ruled by dragons, because of its fiery nature. Living there is difficult for all its inhabitants; its forests are sweltering and its air is choked with ash and refuse.

"Grixis, a land of death. Malfegor, a pawn of the Elder, was exiled there after the Sundering. He led an army that nearly destroyed Esper and almost Bant as well, until he was slain. Almost nothing lives on Grixis, though I do know a few people there-"

Denitt interrupted. "People? Didn't you say it was a land of death? And what business would someone like you have in a place like that?"

"Well, if you must know, people still live there… a few living souls in a land wrapped in the cold embrace of death. I try to save them. Give them life. They try to survive. They live in a sad state… but I do what I can, I guess."

"Oh." Denitt was silenced.

"Anyway, Naya, a land where ancient giants roam, worshipped by smaller creatures who ordain them as gods, or equivalent. It's actually where Bolas was almost slain, by Ajani."

"Who?"

"A great cat warrior. Also a Planeswalker. He is noble, but sometimes, as tends to happen with the vengeant, his rage can get the best of him. In the case of his fight with Nicol, it paid off. But we will get to that soon.

"Finally, Esper, the shard of calculated progress. Almost nothing moves there that has not been in some equation at some point. Basically every living thing there has been augmented by a rare metal called etherium. It shaped the body and encloses in itself the life forces of the user. But the changes are permanent, and sometimes dangerous, but, as I've heard, they are quite useful to a burgeoning artificer."

Now the terrain began to break up. Behind the treelines pebbles floated in midair, as if untouched for centuries.

"But now, we must cease talking. We are almost arrived at the Eye."

"The Eye," said Denitt.

"Yes, created by three ancient Planeswalkers so long ago to enclose the Eldrazi on Zendikar. It is often a first stop for new Planeswalkers. It shows the folly of assuming any task, no matter how well done, can withstand the test of time- the test of infinity itself."

The Dimir are known for their craftiness- their ability to get out of so many situations. But this one- this one was a little more unfortunate.

"Where are they?"

The grate muffled the noise well enough- or so Zaido hoped.

Ferres twirled his knife around as if there were a Boros minotaur outside. He was always on edge.

"Do I look like I know?"

"We should just go back."

"Shut up. We're almost out."

"No we are not! We're trapped!"

"Stop talking. You'll get us caught."

"Do you still have the scrolls?"

"Of course I do."

"Think we could make a break for it?"

Light streamed through the metal, blinding and annoying. There was a reason, afterall, that the Dimir preferred to stay in the Underground. Most missions are conducted under the shade of night, but this one had been an emergency.

"I don't know."

Suddenly a voice came from outside, far away and yet too close for comfort- "Down this way!"

Zaido covered his mouth. Ferres looked at him, still wielding his knife.

Footsteps kept echoing, and getting closer. Both listened in intently. Zaido held up his hand and held up 3 fingers. Ferres tapped him twice on the shoulder.

Zaido pointed to himself, then the the grate, then held up two fingers. He pointed to Ferres and held up the last one.

Ferres nodded, and Zaido perched on the edge, just between the clean stone hallway outside and the rough, slick metal inside.

Six feet echoed.

Then Zaido lept forward, and hit more metal.

The cage was open, and its door clattered to the ground amidst a hallway filled with shouts.

Zaido punched one of the soldiers, naught but a human. They went down easily. He turned to see Ferres wrestling with a young minotaur who had a dagger, Ferres's dagger, sticking out from their neck.

Zaido looked around for the third soldier, but they were nowhere to be seen. He kept searching, but it was difficult to see now that the light was so bright.

Then he saw the final soldier- a young girl with a page's armor running away, unsheathing a sword. She was calling for help. Zaido held up a hand and fired a burst of controlling energy that struck into her brain, causing her to lose consciousness, if only for half a second, but it was enough. She tripped and hit her head against the floor with extreme force. She was out cold.

Now Ferres had hit the minotaur on the head. Both were on the ground, covered in blood, but only one was alive.

Zaido hunched over. He had to finish the task.

"Follow me," Zaido said. He got up and began to walk to the end of the hallway where the girl was. He picked up the minotaur's sheathed sword on the way, and pulled the dagger out of its neck with a sickeningly wet noise. The ground was much more crimson than usual.

Ferres followed, winded but mostly uninjured.

Zaido took the sword from the sheath and dropped the latter to the ground. The leather made a quiet thump.

Zaido raised the sword above the unconscious girl's head.

 _Unfortunate_ , he thought.

 _But_ , he knew, _ultimately necessary._

The climb to the Eye was not easy. What must have been, hundreds of years ago at least, an easy hill ascent was replaced by rope lines over a massive gorge, at the bottom of which was mist and jungle.

Even so, despite the difficult maneuver, they were now on the other side.

"Even though it is a sign of hubris," Kuesh began as they packed up their carabiners, rope, and hooks,"it is still an amazing sight, though it has seen much wear and tear over the decades and centuries."

They started to walk again. Denitt saw Kuesh smiling. Evidently he was enjoying it a lot more.

Denitt had appreciated the climb over. He had finally seen a stunning vista, even if only a sliver because the treeline extended for miles, reducing the view of what was beyond to only a small, triangular sliver.

Denitt smiled too. Things seemed alright now.

He hadn't liked to think about his parent's deaths, but he realized that no matter what would happen next, it was better than being orphaned on Arin. At least here, he knew what his fate would be. He was well-fed for the most part, clothed and occasionally clean, which was so much more than he could say would have happened to him in a different place and time where he wasn't a Planeswalker.

The walk was shorter than Denitt anticipated, and they arrived at the Eye in only an hour or so.

It was, Kuesh had assured him, directly in front of them.

"So this is it?" Denitt asked.

"Yes," Kuesh said. He threw out his arms in grandeur, to a mountain like so many others.

"Uh…" Denitt said, quizzically. "This mountain is the Eye?"

"Oh, no, of course not. The Eye is inside."

"In...side?" Denitt couldn't understand the scale of what must have been contained within.

"Yes. Come now. This place is not meant to teach you a lesson, but also to deliver knowledge. It contains scrolls that detail the exact history of Zendikar."

"Why would I need to know that?"

"Well, you don't _need_ to know it. But it always helps. There's a place like it on every plane, a place that stores all of its world's histories and knowledge. Often it takes the form of libraries or towers stuffed with books and scrolls, but here, since those things don't really exist since the people here are more nomadic and their buildings aren't big enough to contain that much information, it's kept in a place that's safe. Even planes off the map contain them."

"What makes the Eye so safe?" asked Denitt.

"Well, the people of Zendikar think it's cursed. Once, long ago, after the people of Zendikar were attacked and they had forgotten about the tide of devastation the Titans brought, they venerated them as powerful gods. Well, the Eldrazi came back. With a vengeance. And the Titans attempted to absorb Zendikar as they had before."

Kuesh paused as the two edged closer up the hill. Denitt couldn't see the entrance but knew there was one. He couldn't imagine what was inside… what could be inside? What was the Eye? Was it a physical object, or more ethereal? Questions swirled in his head, and he wanted answers.

"The people of Zendikar had seen again the true form of the Eldrazi- not as gods, but horrific monsters that attempted in their own horrific way to destroy the plane. It has been etched forever in Zendikar's history. Even for those who still worship them, the truth of the Eldrazi will remain in the warped chalk on the ground, the-"

"Warped chalk?" Denitt interrupted.

"Yes. It is a strange substance, mana-less terrain. It breaks easily and chokes plant life. A world covered in it is unlivable."

"When my spark ignited, I went to a place with that kind of chalk on the ground."

"I know. That place was here."

"This is the plane you found me on?"

The hill was beginning to rise above the treeline, and Denitt could finally see over it and at the rising ground beyond. Rocks floated above canyons, and smoke from settlements that were days away rose, isolated, into the air.

The sun began to sink into darkness. The day was growing older by the second. But Denitt felt he needed to find the volcano on which he had stood barely a week earlier.

"Yes," Kuesh answered. "On Valakut. If you're looking for it," Kuesh said, turning back and noticing Denitt's wide stare,"you won't see it. It's in the other direction."

Denitt looked back to see Kuesh pointing as if he were pointing beyond the mountain itself, which he almost certainly was.

"Regardless, we are here."

Denitt looked up to see a massive cave thrown into the mountain's side like a knife blade cuts through flesh.

Denitt looked in awe, then ran into the crevice.

"Run, damn it!" Zaido waved his hand. They had to get into the Underground, and soon.

"I'm trying!" Ferres had taken a nasty punch from the minotaur he had fought.

Still though, not an excuse.

They ran through twisting corridors, past murals of ancient Boros captains slaying snakes and vampires that feasted on lesser beings. They passed empty sets of armor ostensibly worn by renowned soldiers. Neither of the two had time to read the names.

They were almost out. Windows passed on their sides, barred. The light was still getting in, and the outside was alive with courtyards, some of which had scrambling soldiers, ones in full armor and some in none, looking for the intruders that had slain the Boros' own.

In seconds alarms began to sound. Loud bells and electric-and-aether-powered works, making as much noise as possible.

Zaido hoped the outside was closing in. He hoped the two could blend into the crowds.

But suddenly, he threw a door open, and there, on the ground, to the left, was a large metal grate, not unlike the one they had come out of minutes earlier.

"Oh…"

Could they fit? Could they make it?

Zaido threw the large satchel to the side, giving himself extra arm room to try lifting the metal.

"Ferres, come help me lift this!" he shouted, yelling above the bells. He hoped no one else had heard him.

The boy ambled over and helped; they both opened the grate and peered inside.

It was darkness all the way down, and for how long was anyone's guess.

"I'll go first," Zaido said, picking up the satchel and looking inside for a hook. His hand passed several scrolls, each containing highly volatile confidential information that would sell handsomely to whatever member of the press could play enough for each of them, until he finally seized upon what he was looking for- a finely crafted stainless steel hook, with at least thirty feet of coiled rope tied to it. It took up a lot of space in the bag, but on Ravnica, a reliable grapple is one of the most important tools an assassin, lawmage, cartographer, footrunner, or daredevil could own.

Zaido began to walk back to the grate,

"Stop!"

Everything stopped.

There, in the doorway, was a heavily clad human. He was holding a handcannon, pointing directly at the pair.

Zaido looked to him. They had been found out.

"Er," he stumbled, unusually for him,"I don't want any trouble-"

"It's a little too late for that, isn't it?"

The soldier wasn't motioning for them to move away from the open grate. Zaido could tell that the soldier was new. He decided he could use that to his advantage.

"Hey, listen, buddy," he began, but he didn't finish.

"Get on the ground!" the soldier shouted.

Zaido threw up a hand to try and possess the soldier, but his hand didn't even get all the way up.

The room exploded with noise.

Ferres fell away into the grate's opening in a shower of blood, and Zaido didn't fare much better. Some of the spheres had flown into his right side, blazing metal digging into weak flesh.

Zaido threw up his hand one more time, and succeeded. The Boros lackey's face lit up with horror at the realization of what was happening. And without his doing, his hand reached to his side and unsheathed its dagger. It was brought up to his throat, and that was that.

Zaido put his hand down and gripped his bleeding side. He clutched the satchel to his body and clamped the hook against the edge of the grate's opening. He slid down it just as what might have been half a dozen or more other Boros ran into the room, all seeming to shout at the same time. He reached the bottom before they even knew what was happening, his foot hitting the slimy undergrowth of the outflow pipe.

They all crowded around the grate as Zaido pulled the hook down. It landed in a heap at the bottom, making a strange noise. Through the hazy light from above, Zaido looked over and realized it had hit the mangled remains of Ferres.

He put his head in his hands for a second, deep in thought, then he started running as fast as he could, amid shouts from above, stuffing the hook into his satchel as fast as it would go, as fast as he could go.


	7. Part 7: Grudges

_Part 7_

 _Grudges_

"Damn it damn it damn it!" Zaido ran. He kept running.

"You can't escape into the underground forever, fool!"

He turned another corner, and yet another. But now this one was a dead end.

Zaido turned, hearing footsteps growing closer. He reached into his pocket for a detonator. He knew this had to be perfectly timed. He pulled it out and looked around at the blank stone walls, covered in varying thicknesses of slime and muck. He held his hand to the trigger, then pushed it down.

An explosion rocketed through the tunnels, carrying dust with it. A sound like the opening of a void moved around Zaido. Another chamber had been opened, and it had to be an out, or he was dead. He sprinted past the dead bodies of an entire platoon of Boros corpses. He thought for a brief second that he might be able to resurrect them.

 _Unlikely._ Especially in his weakened state- strength and time were diminishing resources. Besides, at this point, he didn't really need guards. He put his hand over the wound on his side again and tossed the used detonator behind him. He clutched the bag and ran into the chamber.

The air was thick with must. Once, chambers just like it had been used to house the dead, but now, not so much. Now they were used as escape routes for fleeing Dimir footrunners just like Zaido. Or catacombs for the… no. Now was not the time.

Passing stone tombs, Zaido finally came upon what had to have been a door. But it also seemed to have been locked from the other side. Zaido cursed. He had no tricks left, no way to get out. No escape.

He fell back, sitting against the wall. He gripped his wound once more. But he held tighter to the bag of scrolls. He looked up to the ceiling. Now he was going to be one more to add to the tombs.

He closed his eyes.

But not for long.

Somehow, without his noticing, the door had slid open, and a tall and bulky figure had walked in.

Zaido looked to them but their face was shrouded in mist.

"Who…?"

It definitely wasn't the Boros. It was a lone person, down in the catacombs, underground, near a grave-

"Oh gods no," Zaido winced and looked to the side.

"Trespassing on Golgari lands, once again, are we? And blowing a hole in the wall of one of our breeding grounds?" the figure said, malice in their words.

The figure walked over to Zaido, grabbing his arm and wrenching him to his feet.

"You're coming with me", the figure said intently.

Zaido looked over to see a man, face shrouded in some kind of cloth.

The man started to drag Zaido across the floor, across the threshold of the door, into a hallway just as musty.

"Not smart to agitate us, come into that room, without one of these." The man pointed to the cloth over his face. "You've probably got a hundred different bacteria in your lungs at this moment."

"I," Zaido winced,"didn't come down here to agitate anyone. I thought the chamber was abandoned. I need to be frank, I'm-" His voice trailed off.

"Speak up, now!" the man said, frustrated at something.

"I'm dying!" Zaido shouted, wincing again.

"We all are, boy."

Typical Golgari answer.

"But I'm actually dying, and it's very important that I return to my masters!"

"You're not leaving here alive, I don't think."

Zaido knew the voice was familiar, but he couldn't place a finger on it exactly.

"Your people owe the Dimir, you know, after what happened a century ago," Zaido said, using the old Dimir tactic of blackmail.

"Ha!" The man had a ludicrous amount of joviality in his voice. " _I_ owe you-" He paused for emphasis, then raised his hand, waving it,"nothing!"

He continued through the tunnels, dragging Zaido with surprisingly little effort. There was no struggle. He was simply too weak to fight.

"I'm dying," Zaido whispered.

"I'm sure of it," the man said back in a tone Zaido felt he knew so well.

The pair finally came to the end of the hallway. A large, steel, latticed entrance hung before them. The man pushed Zaido in. An intense pain began radiating from the wound. Perhaps the man was not half wrong about the whole bacteria thing.

"Well," the man kept walking.

Zaido finally looked around the room- grimy beakers and half full jars of water with dozens of colors of algae growing in them. Counters with knives and skewers, burners with no jars of mizzium in them; useless.

A small light flicked on in the room.

"Like it?" the man asked, turned to Zaido, putting on some gloves. "Can't afford many luxuries like that down here. Not enough mizzium. Not enough alms." He shrugged. "So it goes."

The man took the cloth off his face, and turned to Denitt- a clean shaven man with a scar down his cheek, and a brand in the other- a spider.

Zaido knew it.

"Karkas?" he asked, and recognition shown across both their faces.

The trip had been easy. Easier than Yataeso had anticipated. The sun was going down, which was unfortunate. But it was no worry. Assassins wouldn't dare touch him here, especially if they saw his face.

Yataeso looked into the setting sun, from the rooftop he was on. Uncertainty circled around him. He should have been here sooner. If shouldn't have taken the sayings of a newly-ascended child to convince him. But it didn't matter. He was here, and that's all that mattered. Yataeso looked around at the banners dotting the city. Azorius here. Simic there. Izzet and Selenya and even a couple Rakdos flags, flapping in the light, cool breeze.

Yataeso turned around and descended down the building's massive staircase, hundreds of feet. By the time he arrived to the ground, the sun had set and light was starting to dwindle.

Yataeso arrived at street level pulled the hood of his coat up, concealing his face. He walked out onto the streets, which were emptying fast. Some citizens pulled their wares in carts. A few Boros soldiers walked past, some jubilant, and others keeping a watchful eye. A merfolk bustled out of a tavern with a full tankard of ale, a massive smile on her face. She was obviously drunk, with a human clasped around her arms; he had an empty tankard of ale, but no less of a smile. The sight of the two of them attracted the attention of quite a few lawmages. An angered innkeeper ran out after them, yelling at them in a heavy accent to never come back.

Yataeso almost missed the life of Ravnica. He had had to spend most of it secluded, but it certainly had a pull that was almost irresistible. It was a plane unlike any other.

But it had brought him too many painful memories to count. He could come back, but never stay. Maybe this might change things. He walked into the crowd, hoping to make it to New Azor before the sun had risen again. He didn't count on it.

"Oh…" Karkas looked at Zaido. "Uh…" His face turned to embarrassment, then to anger. "What in the name of Rakdos are you _doing_ here?" His face was red and his arms were tensed. Of what Zaido remembered, that fit Karkas's personality very well.

"Listen Karkas, I don't care about what happened in the past, but I'm going to tell you the truth- what I have, what I'm about to do, is going to level the Boros for a good while. And I need to do it. But I'm dying. I don't think I can make it."

"What do you have?" Karkas's rage had nigh subsided.

"That's not important. What is is that I-"

"Don't lie to me again," Karkas said. "I might not have been fit for the Dimir, but I'm certainly fit for the Golgari. I know these people… and, uh, not people. They are my family now. If you deceive me, if you deceive us, again, I will not hesitate to throw your cadaver in a growth room like the one you basically just destroyed."

"Scrolls. Scrolls with Boros secrets, Boros scandals, on them. Each of great value to my guild and the Ravnican people." Zaido looked into Karkas's eyes. "I'm not lying. Both our guilds need this. And I need your help. I need you to get me-" He pointed up. "-to a chapel up there. The Orzhov owe me a little favor."

Karkas still seemed skeptical.

Exasperated, Zaido cracked the satchel open, and handed a scroll to Karkas.

Karkas read it over.

 _It is unknown whether the Azorius have any clue of the Dimir's deception. We intend to keep it that way. If Lavinia were ever to return… it could spell doom for both our guilds. We have agreed to keep it secret for as long as the Guildpact remains resolute. The Guilds must stay together. The Guildpact must stay secure. Our paruns, our founders, did not create this Guild of justice to see it felled by some arrogant lawmages who think they know how to run Ravnica._

 _I find that maybe, just maybe, we do not have so much different about each other, despite our leaders' insistence that the Dimir are our absolute opposites. They lie all the time. That is another example of their deception._

 _Regardless, the fact remains that Lavinia is no longer on this world. She is on what the agents call a "plane". Its name is still kept secret, at least for now. Sevasas would most likely know its name, but no one can find them._

 _She is immortal, which is most concerning. The Dimir assured us that it was only because they had great plans to use her as one of their agents in eternal undeath, as a final insult to the Azorius, a taunt to their sworn enemies._

 _But that dastardly Teset showed up, kicking the doors down and killing their agents, so they decided that, no matter how difficult or costly, they were going to revive her from undeath, hoping she would fetch a good price off-world._

 _Right now, the agents have planted seeds of deception in the Azorius records that implicate some vampire as having assassinated Lavinia, not their agents. Who knows how well the ruse will work._

 _I do not agree with them, but agreement is not in the terms._

 _Secrecy is. That is what is important._

 _That is what will be upheld._

Karkas looked at Zaido one more time, then shrugged. He seemed convinced, but barely so. "Okay." Karkas paused, then sighed, then said- "Okay."

"Look, I know it's been a while."

"Teset, it's been more than a while. Our records show you haven't been an active member of any battalion for…" The Sergeant looked at the dusty book he had been given.

Yataeso looked at the man, frustrated. He hadn't heard his old moniker, his fake alias, in a long time.

"Oh my. Oh, wow. You haven't been part of a battalion for over 300 years." He paused. "How are you- how are you still alive?"

"Listen, I'm going to be honest. I don't have to be here, uh…"

"Jal Tomas."

"Yes, Tomas, I don't have to be here. I was the best the Azorius had. I'm coming back to rescind my leave."

Yataeso still had his hood up. Once, long ago, he had been able to take it off in the presence of guardians of a chancery, but no one around the place was anyone he knew.

Tomas sighed. "This is very… difficult, you must understand. We'd have to change the rules- I don't think we've ever had a soldier leave their post for that long. We'd have to change the rules, and not even Mat'Selesnya knows how long that would take, I mean, right?" Tomas chuckled sarcastically and looked at Yataeso where he guessed the moonfolk's eyes must be. "I'd also like to add," he continued,"that your hood is a little… distracting. I'd just like to point that out."

"Mm hm." Yataeso was tiring of the conversation. "Can I have my credentials back? I was the best you people ever had, you know. Don't forget that."

Tomas narrowed his eyes. "Certainly."

"Really?" Yataeso couldn't get over how easy it had been- the Azorius were never this kind.

"Well,"

Of course.

"you still need to answer… why exactly you came back. It's very strange, to say the least."

"I wish to reopen a case."

"Oh? And which case was that."

Despite its impossibly long name, Yataeso could never forget the designation of the case that had etched across his life in an uncountable number of ways. "Case File F-D-85567-088-944-1-4-93."

"Ooh. That's an old one. Can't really- wait, is that the one with… er… what's her name…?"

Yataeso scoffed. "Lavinia, one of the most important past figureheads of Azorius?"

"Oh- yes." Tomas's face reddened in embarrassment. Then his face contorted in confusion. "Wait- why are you reopening that case? Wasn't it closed centuries ago? The Dimir were implicated in a plot to assassinate Lavinia, it turns out that some rogue vampire had done it, resurrected her to do his bidding, then-"

"I have recently gotten some information that might call all of that into question."

"Oh. Might you share it with me?"

"Not right now."

"Well, I got to tell you, I'm usually not this trusting." Tomas reached under his desk, and pulled out a lanyard with an engraved metal sheet on the end. "This will give you temporary reign to join any squadron you choose. But I warn you, step out of line, and I will personally write the paperwork that marks you a criminal. And I don't think I have to remind you that the Azorius do not forget, even if you disappear underground for another 300 years.

In addition, you are under the squadron leader's discretion. What they say is law to you, understand?"

Yataeso was smiling under the shadow of his hood. "Of course."

It was dark on the surface now. The streetlamps had been lit. The streets were almost empty- an elf walked down one side, behind a few carts lined against the side of the street.

A pair of lone Boros soldiers stalked behind the elf for some unknown reason.

But Zaido had somewhere to be. And Karkas knew where it was.

"The chapel is just this way", he said, pointing down the paved sidewalks.

And off they went. Spires passed, and stone walls covered in shadow did too. The two rounded several corners. Zaido could feel himself getting weaker. He collapsed a couple times- but he had to kept going. He knew he was close. He was sure he was still recoverable.

Finally- they rounded a corner, past some hooded humans etching building plans on stone tablets. They had swords near them. It worried Zaido.

A monolith of light surrounded a massive placard above just as massive doors- a great dark sun made of gold. It was made of the kind of value that could give one enough money for a lifetime, and yet still no one took it, out of fear of what the Orzhov might do to the offender.

"Come on now, we've almost made it," Karkas said.

Zaido fell again.

"Oh come on now." Karkas walked over the Zaido and picked him up, dragging him the distance to the doors. It was painful the whole way.

Zaido looked back to see the hooded figures staring at him. He could feel whatever diseases were eating at his dead, and living, flesh, devouring him from the inside out.

It finally struck him that he might not make it. The realization terrified him- was this what he was going to die for?

 _No_ , he decided, _now is not the time to question the leadership of the Dimir. They are austere, unyielding. They would never just throw such a highly trained agent into such a dangerous zone, especially on such an important mission_. He thought again. Could he really be sure?

Yataeso threw off his Simic-emblazoned smock and dropped his stone tablet, gathering his weaponry. The Dimir assassin was inside the cathedral now. They had no idea what was about to happen.

The Azorius captain had assured them- this was the spot.

"I never thought I'd be doing this again."

He donned the familiar helmet and cape of the Azorius once again.

"Alright!" Now the captain was there, instructing everyone. "So, we've gotten word that this cathedral is swarming with the enemy, and they must-" she repeated-" _must_ be dealt with! Understand?"

The soldiers prepared.

And then it began.

The altar vampires stared down with blank looks. One was drinking a cup full of blood, twirling a dagger in their hand.

Guards stared down, uncertain, spears and swords and maces and pistols unraised, but on edge.

"You owe me this much," Zaido yelled. It hurt his lungs and burned his abdomen.

"Never. Do you know what the price on my head would be if I did this? What if the Azorius and Boros are preparing even now? What shall I do then?"

The fat chaplain argued his case against Zaido, who was in the process of foaming at the mouth in a mixture of blinding pain and blinding rage.

"Listen to me, you ar-" His stomach suddenly flared its horrific revenge for the damage that had been inflicted upon it. "GRAH!" Zaido threw his head back.

"No. You listen to me," the chaplain said. "If you think we owe you something, why don't you head over to The True Church of Glory Orzhova? Surely the Deathless will hear your plea." He chuckled.

But he was too close to Zaido. The candlelight flickered off the chaplain's face. The warm gold of the room insulted the lowly Zaido.

He jumped with the last of his strength at the chaplain, grabbing him by the collar. "You arrogant bastard. There is no more running. I will be healed here, or I will die here, you understand? And if my mission isn't completed-" The words poured from his mouth like poison-"you will regret the day you dared refused the Dimir service. They will hunt you to the ends of Ravnica to exact revenge from the undoing of such an important task."

Fear filled the chaplain's face, but Zaido's strength was waning regardless.

"I…" the chaplain looked down at the man gripping him.

The grip loosened. Zaido fell to the ground.

"Do not act like you cannot fix this, minister," he said, and he rolled over.

He wasn't wrong.

"Very well. But I hope you'll tell your master that the Orzhov would like a little more respect in the Underground than what we usually get."

A defeated Zaido grunted in acceptance.

The chaplain opened his white and gold coat wide, and pulled from it a belt of extravagantly decorated tubes, each with a series of different characters on it, all in order, spelling the creed of Orzhova- _Greatness. Ascension. Riches grace only the willing. Glory graces only the giving._

The chaplain pulled the one that said " _Greatness. Ascension._ " on it. He pushed something on the back, and the front half popped off, leaving only _Greatness_ carved into the side, and a large syringe coming out the front.

"This is going to hurt, I'm afraid," the chaplain said, and he dug the shaft into Zaido's back.

Zaido had never felt such immense pain. Not even when he had been shot had he felt so helpless. A venom was spreading through his body. Sealing wounds and staving infections. It was an incredible invention, no doubt crafted by the Simic, but now wielded by the Orzhov in their never ending quest to keep their slaves alive.

Zaido's eyes closed hard in agony. He held onto the satchel as hard as he could. But he could feel, through the pain, a wholesomeness returning, a reunion with sanity and health.

And then the world went blank, and he fell unconscious.

And then, the world went blank, and the windows and doors exploded, unable to contain chaos.

"Now!"

"Go go go!"

"Come on, this way!"

"Kill them all!"

Yataeso ran in screaming. The wood paneled silver doors were rammed open by at least a dozen soldiers.

He wielded his sword with unstoppable force.

The altar vampires reacted in mere instants, each swooping down as if the invasion were expected, tackling and killing a few of the soldiers. A young man fell to the ground under vampire's duress, hacking its neck all the way down, until two bloodied and dead corpses lay strewn in a river of red.

A massive minotaur charged into a circle of guards, wielding a massive axe, which it used to chop one of the defenders clean in half.

Pistols went off, their shots missing wide or finding a killing blow.

Yataeso had to find the Dimir agent- and he found him, on the ground, being dragged by the church's chaplain to some kind of safety.

No one else seemed to notice- except for one determined soldier, chasing them down.

The chaplain and footrunner passed around a corner as the soldier swerved in and out of the fray of battle towards them.

Yataeso had to reach the agent first. He followed suit.

A head flew past, a lawmage fell to Yataeso's feet, gasping for air that simply passed through a punctured lung.

The ground ran red. Bodies fell. Vampires took flight, then swooped back down, picking off more of the attacking forces. Some succeeded, digging their fangs into necks and drawing strength back out. Others were smashed to the side, and hacked to death.

Yataeso didn't have time to notice much of it. He passed the last line of disarrayed soldiers and around the same corner after the two offenders. He was so close. He could feel it.


	8. Part 8: Interruptions

_Part 8_

 _Interruptions_

"Denitt, stop running!"

He didn't.

"It's still dangerous in there!"

Kuesh's voice was growing distant.

But something was pulling him into the Eye. Something important.

He sprinted down stone walkways. He rounded corners. He entered a massive cavern of a room. Statues stood, dozens of feet tall, whose bases disappeared into mist below, stared down in admiration or hatred.

Still, he kept running. The walkway was a jagged stone bridge, edging against a deep crevice on either side.

Then there was a light, and Kuesh appeared in a blaze of blue, just before Denitt, a pleading yet stern expression on his face.

"Stop!" he shouted.

Something welled up inside Denitt, and he too jumped, past Kuesh.

"There's still danger-"

But Denitt was gone. Someone was here. He knew it. Was it dangerous?

He didn't have time to figure it out. The stone pathway passed so many hedrons, the abyss seeming to get darker as he went, but soon it ended in a large pair of steely doors, through which Denitt tumbled.

He fell face first on the ground.

"Good of you to arrive," a deep voice said above him.

Denitt opened his eyes, but he was still just staring at the ground.

"Denitt!" Kuesh was off in the distance, still shouting, but getting closer.

Denitt looked up and saw… a man, adorned in brilliant silver robes, and a breastplate with some strange symbol on it. He had a satchel on his side, and a brilliant silver sword on a leather belt wrapped around his middle. His face was just as glowing as his clothing, and his gray eyes stared confusedly down at the boy who had just crashed into this final stone chamber.

Broken statues of various deity-like beings looked down upon the two, and altars surrounded them, each clean and unused, seemingly for centuries.

A loud bang came from behind Denitt as he stood up, and a loud and annoyed sigh echoed through the chamber.

"Damn it... " It was Kuesh, at the doors, holding them open, out of breath.

"Hello, Kuesh."

Kuesh coughed, and Denitt looked around to see him stare at the ground.

Kuesh paused, with a serious look on his face, before turning his head to meet eyes with the figure before them. "Ugin."

Denitt was the first to break the silence. "Uh- I assume you two know each other?"

Kuesh looked as if someone had just died. "Yes. This is Ugin. I know him from a while ago."

"Ha! He certainly does. I still can't get that image of your face, you fighting one of Muzzio's constructs, only to find a larger one behind you." Ugin seemed to be doubled over in laughter.

"I… did you lead me here?" Denitt asked. He still felt how he had- pulled to this chamber.

"Well," Ugin began,"not intentionally." He paused. "Kuesh, this one is a clairvoyant, is he not?"

"A couple people seem to think so."

"Hm." Ugin narrowed his eyes.

"How is Yataeso doing?" Ugin asked.

"Well, last time I checked."

"Desha?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Kuesh said,"I'd like to discuss whatever you're here for. I wouldn't hasten to imagine your being here is just a coincidence."

"Well, you're not wrong. I came here to speak to you about something. I heard about this young one-" Ugin pointed to Denitt -"and knew you would be coming here."

"Then it must be important," Kuesh said, sarcastically.

"It certainly is."

"Then let's hear it."

"Very well." Ugin pulled the satchel off his side, and threw it to Kuesh, who fumbled with it. It had probably been heavier than anticipated. He finally grasped hold of it and lifted the front flap open. He peered inside, and was blinded.

Denitt walked over and peered in as well. A brilliant red crystal, like a ruby, and yet not one, sat in it.

"Bolas has been up to something again. I just got word, not even a year ago. He's planning something huge," Ugin said, but the two still didn't look up.

The crystal seemed so hypnotizing.

"Excuse me," Ugin said in a harsher tone.

"Oh-" Kuesh and Denitt said, at the same time, looking up.

Kuesh closed the flap.

"As I was saying, Bolas is doing something. And judging by his nature, it's nothing good."

"What is it? I assume it has something to do with these crystals?"

"Yes," Ugin confirmed. "They are like nothing I, or the Peacekeepers, have ever seen. Their chemical makeup is more complex than even our best scientists can crack."

"And their purpose?"

"These crystals… suppress the planeswalker spark. But to truly work, they have to be huge. That shard right there probably couldn't even stop Denitt here, let alone someone like me or you Kuesh."

Kuesh nodded annoyedly.

"But some of them are huge. Debilitating. The kind of size that makes escape impossible, except apparently for the ones who put it there, which are undoubtedly the Elder and his cronies. Word is, Bolas is going around the Multiverse, planting these crystals everywhere. Supposedly- he's been doing it for decades, if not centuries. There are worlds out there, shrouded in mist. We don't know what's happening there. We can't go and see what's occurring in them." Ugin looked down to Denitt. "I think that's where you come in."

Denitt could tell he looked confused, an expression that didn't lie.

"You see, Denitt, you might be able to see into these places. To uncover the truth. To find Bolas. He has slipped my grasp more times than I am comfortable with. Than any of mine are comfortable with."

"How do you know about Denitt's abilities?" Kuesh demanded.

"I still have informants in Hopestream, you know. Or, at least, you should." Kuesh didn't seem to accept that answer. "Either way," Ugin continued,"we're both on the same side."

That was an answer Kuesh accepted, if only partially.

"What do you want from me?" Denitt asked. He still didn't understand. What "abilities" did he have? He kept hearing he was clairvoyant. But that had been only one time, as far as he was aware.

"Denitt, there are some things Kuesh, nor those at Hopestream, would deign to tell you. Perhaps a little ambition wouldn't hurt someone such as yourself."

Denitt looked at Kuesh, whose eyes were widening in shock, as if this were something that never should have been said to Denitt.

"You see Denitt, you-" Ugin stopped.

"Stop this!" Kuesh interrupted, furious. "Now! We are leaving."

The symbol on Ugin's breastplate lit up, a large C with a horizontal line through it, golden and bright. It was blinding.

"I'm afraid you can't know more until some disputes with your friends are settled. I've been told that Yataeso has been causing quite the ruckus on Ravnica. Perhaps you should talk to him. Meet me on Grixis in exactly eighteen months. You'll know how to find me. That should give you ample time to sort out your business there, and your business with Yataeso. Don't be late. And don't forget Denitt. He is going to be very important."

And then there was a flash, and shouting, and Ugin was gone.

"Bastard," Kuesh muttered. He looked around. There were books on the altars, and Kuesh seemed to be staring at each, intently, eyes darting across them all. He sighed. "All accounted f-"

He paused. "No."

"What? What happened?" Denitt asked.

"The one on Ugin, it's gone."

"Did he take it?"

"I don't see why he would- I guess I'll have to ask him next time I see him."

"I'm beginning to think you two have quite a… erm... rocky past," Denitt said, joking. It appeared that Ugin, who seemed quite powerful, and uncannily like Bolas, being a human in some armor and many robes, had something of a grudge against Kuesh- though it was almost certainly the other way around.

"Yes. I'm sure you noticed that he is also like Nicol Bolas. An aged human with armor and cloth and robes and symbols."

"I did."

"Well, they are nearly cut from the same cloth."

"How so?" Denitt was beginning to think that perhaps Ugin and Bolas were more similar than he even initially thought.

"You see," Kuesh began, brushing dust off his trimmed clothing,"thousands of years ago, Ugin and Bolas were both dragons from different planes. But Ugin was swept up in plans to imprison the Eldrazi on Zendikar, and so, Bolas, acting for purposes likely only he knows, fought Ugin. Some say he just wanted to peer into the dragon's mind, to find the purpose of the Eldrazi. Some say he wanted to enslave them. His plan never came to fruition, however, since two of the Titans were slain, and the other remains in hiding, or something close to it. Regardless, Ugin died. Bolas killed him."

"But we just saw U-" Denitt interrupted, only to have it reciprocated.

"Yes, I know, I know. I'm getting to that. Anyway, in his final breaths, he reached into the Multiverse, into the very future itself, for one who could resurrect him. He found that man in a planeswalker named Sarkhan Vol. Tormented by Ugin's whisperings, Vol went to Tarkir, to where Ugin had been created and where he had died. He went to a nexus Ugin had created, travelled backwards in time, and saved Ugin when he had been struck down. Bolas left, and Vol put Ugin into a hibernation of sorts with some of the hedrons Ugin created here, on Zendikar. Ugin awoke nearly thirteen-hundred years later. And only he and Vol knew what had happened."

Kuesh stopped, then motioned to an eager Denitt that he was not yet finished with the story, and shook his gloved hand, bringing up a ball of light, surrounded by two other spheres of dark.

"Night is coming," Kuesh said. "Follow me. You have seen this place. You know of its purpose now and then. There is no reason to stay, I think." He waved his hand for Denitt to follow, and he did.

They walked out of the chamber, onto the stone walkway outside.

When they came to the outside, Kuesh turned to Denitt. "I have some things to attend to. I will finish my story, but I'm afraid my recounting of the past has been halted by Ugin's dire warnings. Even if I think he is a pompous ass, because he is, he is not malicious, which leads me to believe he is not wrong."

Denitt nodded his head.

"Either way," Kuesh went on,"I will have to pause my tour with you. We must return to Hopestream, I'm afraid. You will likely be taught to hone your skills while I'm gone on Ravnica."

"Okay."

"So," Kuesh said, walking back towards the line over the crevice they had traversed only hours before,"let me continue."

Kuesh continued his tale about Sarkhan and Ugin. He told of ancient treacheries that had happened a millennia before. Sarkhan had grown restless of the lies that both Ugin and Nicol had spun to appease him, the self-proclaimed, and other-proclaimed, "Master of Dragons".

"Both knew that when it came to Vol, they were not as powerful as they were against other people, creatures, or planeswalkers. So they each tried to ally with Vol, hoping he would not come after them for their many deceits, and possibly turning him against the other. It did not work, and one day, some say, Sarkhan just snapped. He baited both planeswalkers onto Fiora, where they inevitably came to blows, and as they were recoiling from hits the other had thrown, Sarkhan came out of the shadows, taking away their Dragonform in an awe-inducingly powerful spell, reducing them to mere men. He then ran away, and that was that. He still lives, somewhere, out there in the Multiverse. Anyway, the two ancient, powerful Planeswalkers-" Kuesh smirked-"went away, weakened, but not impossibly so. You know Bolas still commands a frightening army, and Ugin leads a group called the "Peacemakers" or "The Eye". They style themselves as, well, peacekeepers in the Multiverse, but they're just as often hired guns. Don't trust 'em if you can help it."

The two kept talking, walking off into a dimming sunset.

Shadows were falling, and things were going to become much darker before the day came back.


	9. Interlude 1

_Interlude 1_

"Run! Now!"

The ground was startling to crumble, the very street before Tarko ripping apart like pastry. The highrises around them weren't faring any better. Massive chunks of rock fell from third stories and roofs, almost crushing the three of them.

"You don't really have to tell me," Tarko shouted.

How would this affect the Decamillennial? Volov had spent too much of his time working on the festivities, which, judging by the encroaching waste around them all, probably wasn't going to happen.

Suddenly, a Boros legion bolted around a corner only a couple dozen feet ahead. They shouted something incomprehensible, and their voices were drowned out by the thrashing of tentacles and appendages from far behind.

The Legionnaires suddenly made their previously garbled intentions clear- some pulled out mizzium cannons and others crossbows, aiming their weapons at what was behind them- the Experiment.

Then, as if to show that it was possible, the world became much louder and much brighter. The midday sun seemed to herald a great light, and a horrific scream came from behind, like hundreds of Gruul were battling at the same time on the street behind them.

Kera turned her head, but Tarko was the first to regain his senses. The smell of metal filled the air as he bustled her away, grabbing the arms of the shaken Volov as he went.

Now the world was beginning to come back into focus, and Tarko looked up to see several of the Legionnaires reloading their weapons, while others readied spears for some kind of charge.

"Get- run- cover!" one commander said in between pained twistings of the street of its destroyer.

They didn't stay round to be told one more time. They rushed past the front line, which had taken its place- a couple dozen humans and a couple goblins taking up the length of the street, barely two lines deep.

Tarko looked around, and saw that the three were now facing an intersection. To the right was another group of Wojek soldiers, and to the right were several Azorius justicars carrying several Simic peons out of buildings in chains.

"Do you think they'll do that to you?" Kera asked. She had seen the line of justicars and had thought the same thing as Tarko.

"I don't know." Tarko had been affiliated with the Simic once, but these days, he tried to stay out of the business of the guilds. And whether he had been a part of their Combine before was irrelevant- he had never been high enough or in deep enough to even glimpse a single scrap of paper with plans on it for something like that.

Tarko was an elf with a past that placed him in the guild regardless. He was certain that the Azorius and Boros were arresting people for having implications even lesser than his own.

"But it's probably best that we stay out of their way. At least for now."

But at that moment, while Tarko had been distracted, a voice boomed from behind him. "Going somewhere, elf?"

Tarko turned to see a massive minotaur staring down at him, at least seven feet tall, and not much unlike a tree.

"Er-" Tarko paused. "I-"

"Let me see your guild papers," the minotaur demanded, reaching down to his sheathed sword.

"I'm Guildless sir, and so are these other two, so if you don't mind-"

"I think I do mind. What's your name, elf?" The minotaur's voice was growing steadily harsher. The last thing Tarko wanted to do was provoke him.

"Very well." Tarko dug into his coat and pulled out a sad crumple of papers.

Another massive crack went off behind the assembled people. Tarko shudders, and again a piercing scream from the Experiment horror.

"Papers. Now." The minotaur's eye was starting to twitch. He was much less fazed by the loud noises than Tarko or Volov or Kera.

The elf held his papers up and the minotaur snatched them violently.

He opened them up and read them. He squinted, then, his eyes scanned down to the bottom of the page.

His face twisted, and, unceremoniously, the minotaur gingerly handed the papers back and said- "Come with me."

"Uh-"

"That is not a choice. You're heading down into this District's station whether you like it or not. Come peacefully or injured, your choice." The minotaur's voice was low as he said the words. They were final.

Tarko looked over to the other two. Head back to the house. I'll be there when this mess is sorted."

"Sir-" the minotaur interrupted-"did you think I'd let them off?"

"Uh- yes?"

"No. All three of you are implicated in this plot. Experiment Kraj is rampaging through the streets, and if I can help find the person who started such an event as this, I gladly will. It's very important that celebrations begin in this District and all others. I don't want whoever caused this making another uproar. And, according-"

Again, a loud bang and the street shook.

"-to your guild papers, you use to be in the Simic."

"It was years ago! I never heard anything about this Experiment Kraj in my life!"

"Sounds like what a guilty person might say."

And it was at that point that Tarko decided argument would lead to no resolution besides being handles harsher in whatever station the three were being sent to.

"Fine," Tarko said, and that was that.

The ride to the station was not necessarily horrible. They were crowded into a wooden carriage with several other worried people who looked to have extremely varied involvements in the Simic Combine, and taken to a station, where the doors were opened and a glistening marble monolith with pillars and a pristine sense about it stood before the dozen disenfranchised peoples.

A captain walked in front of them and began to direct them into the building. He guided them inside, into a golden foyer, massive, with a just-as-royal chandelier hanging above in the shape of the familiar Boros' fist.

Then they were all walked into a much less extravagant and much damper room, where they were stripped of all possessions, save for the clothes on their backs.

The captain directed them into several smaller rooms along a connected corridor, and that was that.

Soon, inquisitors walked in, each with lengthy dossiers, most likely containing more information about Tarko than he could remember of himself.

The questions ended much less suddenly than they began, but soon the inquisitors found him innocent.

"Well," said one of them,"I think we've cleared your name in this case, at least for the time being. You may go." The inquisitor slipped Tarko a piece of paper with a number at least 20 digits long beneath the words "CONTRABAND AND GOODS PERSONAL RETRIEVAL"; his smile much less human than Tarko was comfortable with. Both inquisitors waved Tarko goodbye as the two still sat there unblinking for a good few seconds. Tarko got out of his seat and headed towards the door.

He reached out towards the knob, but the motion was interrupted.

"If you're lying, however, know that there is no place on Ravnica you can hide. Do you understand, Tarko Stavet?" The other inquisitor was now standing in her chair.

Tarko paused. "Yes."

"Very well."

Tarko turned the lock and headed out into the hallway, the room, the foyer, the outside.

The district was quiet now, save for a couple far-off explosions. A silver moon was showing through smoky clouds above, wispy grays that hid the stars.

Stone passed underfoot, and several Boros soldiers looked to Tarko as he strode across the courtyard of the building. He stopped when he reached the outside fortifications at a window cut into rock, a room beyond.

"Tarko Stavet," he said into it, and a shadowy figure replied: "Number?"

Tarko almost forgot. He took the slip in his hand and repeated what he thought was verbatim to whoever was beyond the window.

There were a few moments of silence, then: "Very well." There was a brief shuffling, then an old and wrinkled hand slid from the opening, atop all Tarko had- a leather pack with a few scrolls in it, and a pendant he had received from his mother years before when she had moved to some district across Ravnica.

Tarko took both, donning the pendant and swinging the satchel around his neck. He thanked whatever was in the shadowy room beyond, but only silence was returned.

He nodded, looked to the ground, and walked away. Outside the grounds were more stories-tall apartment buildings and businesses.

Tarko didn't know which way to go to his house, but he had a feeling the others would make their way towards there too, so he decided to find whoever he could and ask for directions.

The paved cobblestone sounded strangely hollow in this part of the district, but that, Tarko concluded to himself, was because it had to be older.

A pair of Orzhov collectors walked past, and Tarko stopped them.

They introduced themselves only as Eighty-nine and One-hundred-and-Twenty, and they were no help. Both wore nearly opaque cloth masks over their faces and gold-crested chestplates with silver swords at their sides. Both also spoke in smooth monotones that gave nothing away about their emotions or proclivities. Tarko couldn't even tell what part of Ravnica they were from. Both had no accent, no distinguishable features. Still though, they seemed to know just as little about how to navigate this part of the district as Tarko.

Tarko sighed and walked away while the collectors asked him about any debts he might have owed to the Syndicate. He owed none, incredibly, so he remained silent, for returning conversation on the matter of money with Orzhov collectors can only go on for so long before it turns to shady deals that only benefit the Syndicate.

Tarko kept walking, and the streetlamps started to dim as he went along. The buildings also seemed to be in various states of disrepair.

A few minutes passed, and a couple miles, and the disrepair and apparent poverty of the district slums was only getting worse.

Fearing that he might be entering Dimir, or worse, Rakdos territory, he turned back, but not before noticing a strange blue-green flash from a nondescript stone and wood apartment up ahead.

He didn't want to go inside- something dangerous could be in there. But, with the same reasoning that got him involved with the Simic in the first place, Tarko couldn't help himself. What such a flash might be doing in a worn down and impoverished district like this was a mystery his feet were already rushing to solve.

He arrived at the doorway of the building, whose door was ajar, and looked inside.

And there, amongst tables cluttered with equipment not out of place in a laboratory, was Momir Vig, leader of the Simic Combine, and criminal wanted amongst all of Ravnica. And he was talking to two shadowed figures, one cloaked in black and the other in white, each with suns of the opposite color emblazoned on the cloth adorning their chests- the Orzhov, not too unlike Eighty-nine and One-Hundred-and-Twenty.

All three people in the room spoke in hushed voices.

"How long, Vig? Until the Azorius, or worse, the Boros, catch you? Come with us. Our guilds have worked together in the past, perhaps we could allow you to continue your experiments." The taller one, dressed in black, spoke the words with a sickening tone, indignant and precise.

"I… might as well turn myself in. This has gone too far. You can't stop me." Vig was leaned against a table, as though hurt.

"Vig." Now the shorter Orzhov member, in white, began talking. They fiddled with a dagger on their belt. "You know what would happen. Execution. Disgrace. Your very guild could be destroyed after this. We know this has gone too far. That's why we want to help." Abruptly, they pulled down their hood, and a metal case in the shape of a beautiful woman's face enclosed what must have been a human of the same gender. She extended a hand to Momir, despite his being nearly ten feet away from her.

"I'm not very close to you." Vig looked over at the woman and shook his head. "Those Orzhov helmets are just as blinding as even, hm?"

"Momir Vig, your words mean nothing. Could we discuss the issue at hand rather than snide remarks?" The one dressed in black was certainly no nonsense.

The woman still pulled her arm back in apparent nervous shame regardless.

"Sure." Momir then reached across the table he was leaning against, grabbing two test tubes with frothing content, then mixed them together. The solution seemed to be exploding in his hand, but he drank it, the contents seeming to gag him. He swallowed, sputtered a bit, coughed, then said, nonchalantly,"I will not accept."

"And why is that."

"I might have started this, but since it has failed, I have failed. These past few years have lead up to an event that I hoped would be a Ravnican renaissance, but has been nothing of the sort. A disappointment, a failure of epic proportion. All of Ravnica has suffered under my arrogance. " Momir stood up straight and looked up at the stone ceiling, the first floor in the large but empty building he was currently in.

Then, a chill shrouded the room, and Momir Vig looked downwards towards the two Orzhov collectors in horror and shock.

Suddenly, a fourth figure walked in, also cloaked, but much more extravagantly.

Tarko snuck in through the door and behind a large row of cabinets. The light was dimmed, but he could see through a gap in the boxes the shelf was holding- a humanoid figure with the sleekest, darkest clothing Tarko had ever seen, as if all light were erased when it struck the figure's clothes, darker than night.

And then everyone turned, Momir certainly in horror, and the other two in something approaching horror, though Tarko couldn't tell since their faces were both deeply obscured.

And then, the figure spoke, a sickening tone, melodic but cold.

"Hello, Momir." The figure lifted their grayed hands to their hood and pulled it back. And there was a vampire's face- even though he didn't want to believe he knew who the vampire was, it was almost impossible not to- the man wanted by all of Ravnica. Szadek, not dressed in is usual armor, but in cloak, an oddity for one such as him.

"I… Szadek- you-" Momir sputtered.

"Shh shh, Momir, please don't speak. We have much more to discuss than your pleads."

The two Orzhov collectors were backing away towards the door- towards Tarko.

He dodged out of the way, shuffling behind further crates, but it was too late. One of them had seen him, but in their fear didn't realize the real threat in the room- Szadek.

The vampire reached out his arm, and a sickly blue glowed through the room, and both of the collectors fell unconscious, or, more likely- dead.

"Good," whispered Szadek. "Now let us continue our business."

"Business? I haven't worked with you or your guild in… in years!" Momir was collapsing onto the table behind him in fear.

Tarko stared out at the altercation, but both Momir and Szadek were silent.

"But that's where you're wrong. My people have been in your guild for just as long as we have been apart. Judging by my reports, what you have going on here is very special indeed. Very interesting, yes." Szadek walked a little closer to Momir. He reached into his cloak.

"What do you want from me?"

Szadek paused. "You see, the reason I am here- is because, to even my astonishment, there are parts of your guild that not even I have been able to reach. Your… experiment. Kraj, is it?"

"What about it?" Momir asked.

"I want to do a little bit of a trade."

There was a noise outside of the building, but neither Momir nor Szadek seemed to hear it. But Tarko did. He looked back, and there was a window. Eyes stared in but quickly whisked away, out of sight. Tarko stopped crouching and stood up, just barely out of sight, looking through the window, but no one was there.

Tarko looked back to Szadek, who had produced a vial full of a kind of turquoise gel.

"My people," Szadek began,"have acquired this stuff through… less than savory means. Biological materials from Experiment Kraj."

"Why are you showing me this?"

"You see, we have the material- but not the information, and time is running out, unfortunately, for you. You are going to be captured very soon. I'm here to offer you a trade- you give me all the documents on how to make Experiment Kraj, and we will give you asylum, the ability to conduct all the experiments you want for the rest of your days. We will smuggle you away to the farthest corners of Ravnica where the law can never find you. What say you Momir? We need people like you. And we will make good on our promise, unlike the Orzhov, who would turn you in for nothing better than a few alms."

"I…" Momir's eyes flickered. He seemed to understand- or perhaps it was just the vampire playing mind tricks on him. Regardless… "Yes. Okay."

"Excellent. I'm glad we could come to an agreement. Do you perhaps have something that could lead me to the papers right now?" Szadek smiled assuringly.

"Yes." Momir opened a pocket on his belt and pulled out a small, crumpled piece of paper, handing it to Szadek.

"Well, this is interesting," Szadek said, unfolding the paper and looking over it. "It's just a shame that someone is here, overhearing this all. Perhaps they should learn a lesson in not eavesdropping."

Momir Vig looked around in confusion.

Tarko's heart leapt, and he stopped breathing, hoping to be silent. But, of course, noise is not how psychic vampires find their victims-

"Come into the light," Szadek said.

And Tarko did. His mind was blurring, a haze of uncertain words. The wood in the walls was contorting, turning into bloody brick and brightened knives. The floor was a grate, and below was a sea full of corpses, each staring up, rotting but intent on taking Tarko into the depths with them.

But Szadek wasn't seeing the same thing. All he saw was the wooden walls and stone floors and Momir- and the vial in his hand. He uncorked it.

"You see, Momir, this is what we do. This is what the Dimir are. I have been gifted recently with an invention by a dragon claiming to be from Utvara. He told me he had spent ages finding me. And since he had done so, I felt like giving him some of my time to hear what he was saying. He told me that he had found worlds beyond ours, and wanted to share that knowledge with someone who would actually appreciate it- me. He gave me a stone."

On cue, Szadek reached into his cloak again and pulled out a gray obsidian slab with red inlaid into it. A button or miniscule lever of some kind also sat in its center, pulsing with what must have been energy. It was bound around a chain of pure, black light.

"He told me the stone could access entire different worlds. I thought the dragon was insane- but then, without telling me, he activated the stone, and we travelled into a dark place, one with such simultaneous brightness and darkness that I didn't think I'd see again. But when we arrived out of that strange tunnel, I still could. I looked around at where I was. It was a world ruled by a mad king, who destroyed the lands of the place until an area barely larger than the most middling district of Ravnica, only a couple week's walk across, was left. But, when I saw it, I still couldn't believe it. A world ripe for the taking. But this dragon explained to me that I could rule it someday, that I could plant the seeds of domination soon. I think he predicted this day."

Szadek took the open vial of gel, and, walking up to Tarko, shoved it into Tarko's mouth, who gagged and choked, stuck in the vampire's mind grip.

"I will send this man to that world, and he will lead an army that cannot be stopped, a hivemind that, now, only I will have the answer to. Remember this, child," Szadek said to Tarko,"let this sickness consume you. It will be my salvation."

Now the noises outside were unmistakable- the clanking of metal and boots against the ground.

Momir looked on in shock at the act before him.

"I have grown beyond this plane, Momir. This stone only works every couple thousand years you see, and now I will only have to wait. But I have waited so long. This will be it for all of us I suppose. It will help me become so much larger than Ravnica."

And with that, he pressed down the button on the stone, pointed one end towards Tarko, and he was gone, catapulted into the furthest reaches of nowhere, a place he couldn't begin to comprehend.

"Well, it looks like time is up for you, Momir," Szadek said, turning to the elf.

"I- you're going to help me, right?" Momir asked, smiling nervously.

"Oh, yes, sorry about that." Szadek walked up, inches from Momir's face. "Was I not clear enough? Your time-"

There was a brilliant flash and a swift motion, and Momir was on the ground with a blade in his chest.

"-is up. Goodbye, Vig. Thank you for this information. I'm sorry we had to meet again like this." The vampire chuckled evilly.

And with that, Szadek walked into a room nearby, and disappeared out of a window.

Momir lied against the table, dying.

"Kraj… no… not Kraj, not like this, he has to be… stopped…" But Momir could not move. And besides, no one outside would let him try.

The door was kicked open, and in a flurry, there was a Virusoid standing in the doorway, armor-clad, but with an intelligence in its eyes that belied something unusual.

"Momir Vig?" The hulking Simic-created form said, standing over the dying elf.

"Y-yes? Are you here to help me? Why are you not in-"

"No. I am Agrus Kos, leader of the Boros."

"But you are-"

"I died. I am a spirit. I have possessed this form."

"Oh."

The world was growing dark.

"You are under arrest for cr-"

"I know, I know. I accept my fate. But you must understand- Szadek, he was here but seconds ago. He has the plans to-"

"You will not stop me. You will not distract me, Vig."

"Then at least help me!" Momir was yelling, which was bad, since it hurt so much.

"Unfortunately, you seem beyond help."

"DO YOU THINK I DID THIS TO MYSELF!?" Momir's abdomen was on fire, but he had to say, or rather, shout it.

Agrus Kos, or the form he was possessing, looked at Momir sideways. "This is true."

But the work was still growing darker. Momir Vig looked out of the window, and saw the last of Szadek disappear over the furthest rooftops.

He was gone.


	10. Part 9: Downward Spiral

_**Chapter 2**_

 _ **Villains**_

 _Part 9_

 _Downward Spiral_

Kalokova had never been closer to such dangerous criminals. She had usually found herself on guard duty in the slower parts of the district, a recruit given easy jobs, but now…

The air flowed through her helmet, and the scabbard at her side rustled uncomfortably, but she couldn't be bothered. The task in front of her was more important than any kind of momentary discomfort.

Her eyes narrowed. Her face was beaded in sweat. And she passed the arches away from the main ceremony room of the chapel into a hallway. The wooden door swung on its hinges. She sprinted towards them. The walls were covered in several small fountains, each one dripping blood, with words under each declaring what race the blood was from. Kalokova glanced to some and shuddered, but kept going.

 _The business of Orzhova,_ her commander had always told her _, was its own. It was not anyone else's place to intervene._ She had never believed in it. Perhaps some feeling of disgust had pushed her to take a dangerous mission like this one. To find those responsible for such brutal tithing and stop them.

She ran through the doors, and entered a smaller room, a dark stone place with a vaulted ceiling painted across with images of vampires performing kind deeds- and cruel jobs assigned by horrific taskmasters.

All around the room were busts of such taskmasters- the Deathless, in various states of revivification. There were eleven. As Kalokova scanned the faces of the empty room, she realized it was actually the same man, going from young and scared, onward to confident middle age, to wisened ancientness, to cruel dead, to terrifying undeath.

No- they were not Deathless. They were the Master Pontiff of The True Church of Glory Orzhova. And one of them looked different than the rest- while all of them were dusty, one particular one, the one in the middle of the furthest most wall, one depicting the newly dead face of the Master Pontiff, had no dust on its forehead. The closed eyes seemed to move. Kalokova thought it was just her mind, but she approached it anyway.

Indeed, the forehead had the smudges of a hand across it. She reached out with tentative fingers towards it, pressing it down. Nothing happened.

Kalokova looked away, disappointed, but something in the corner of her vision moved. She looked back, and the eyes seemed to have rolled back in the stone head. She pressed down the eyes simultaneously, and the mouth opened.

Kalokova bent down and inspected it. There was a button, made of gold, with a definite thumbprint. She ran her gloved finger over it and pressed the button too.

She heard footsteps behind her, an unfamiliar voice seeming to declare- "Stop!"

But she didn't have time to turn around before the bust's jaw closed, the floor in front of it opened up, and she fell into the darkness below.

Her eyes opened with a start.

Her chest hurt. Had she broken a rib? Had she fractured her spine? She couldn't tell, but she did know she was face down in soft dirt. The sounds of water echoed around, and hurried footsteps in the distance.

She pulled herself up into a crouch, and got on one knee, breathing heavily.

She looked ahead.

And Kalokova saw a twisting set of chambers. A massive waterfall flowed adjacent to a bridge before her. She stood up, and still her chest hurt. But it was certainly not that of a broken bone. How far had she fallen?

She couldn't tell.

But she had to find the Dimir agent, his companion, and the chaplain.

She broke into a sprint, looking around. Light streamed in from holes above, which was a massive ceiling, ran through with pipes and pillars.

There was so much dark.

She was underground, that was for certain. Where the Dimir and Golgari and Rakdos worked best.

Were the Rakdos implicated in this? The Dimir agent's companion certainly seemed to have been from the Golgari, judging by the waste covering his clothing and scarred face, but she hadn't had enough time to get that good of look, what with all the commotion and chaos.

The bridge was also soft dirt, held up by nothing, liable to break at any moment. But Kalokova, as with so many others, had joined the Boros because she liked to consider herself, at least partially, fearless- though things like this did get to her. She tried not to allow such feelings and certainly not to let them show to her peers.

Perhaps if she finished this mission, she would be promoted, and would never have to be on the frontlines of battle. She liked the idea, and knew her parents, who constantly feared for her life, would too.

She finished crossing the bridge. She looked back, seeing it crumble, just a little more. It creaked.

But a shadow covered the ground she had landed on not so long ago.

And then a figure dropped onto where she had landed, but Kalokova couldn't worry about helping them. She didn't need help herself, she had another job. She turned back, and ran again.

More rooms passed, empty, or covered in fungus. Lights continued to stream in from above, as well as other bridges of dirt.

She realized she was entering a catacomb. The Golgari were bound to be here, but she could still hear the pained shouts of the Dimir agent up ahead.

The ground started to get rockier, mulchier. There were skulls on the ground. Grass and fluorescent mushrooms grew from the ground, and the rooms started to get larger and more stuffy, though the path still stayed clear.

But soon, the cavern ended in a pair of steel doors.

Kalokova ran to them. She wasn't certain she could push them open. She stared up at the wall. It was, to her surprise, stone. She heard sounds on the other side. She knew it had to be the agent and his allies.

She pushed on the door as hard as she felt she could, but they only budged slightly.

The sounds on the other side stopped, but she continued pushing. She couldn't do it.

She looked up at the doors. Massive. Silver. Emblazoned with the seal of no guild- only a primitive shape, a circle with a dragon's head, as if it were the Izzet's, but from thousands upon thousands of years earlier.

She looked down, once again, but this time at her gloved hands that hid scars beneath, burns from years ago.

Then she looked to the door. She tensed her arms, and pressed them against the doors, not yet pushing.

She looked intensely forward into nothing, summoning all her strength.

She yelled, and pushed, the doors creaking madly. She screamed, her arms putting in all the strength they could, expelling might forward like a force of nature. And the doors, inch by inch, opened wide enough to walk through.

Kalokova turned around, breathing heavily. Her arms burned like they had so long ago, and she looked downward, hands on knees in exasperation. But still she heard creaking, and she looked over her shoulder, to see the doors opening of their own accord, ever more.

But that was not what alarmed her the most- it was what was beyond them.

An entire catacomb, entire complexes, buildings stretching farther and farther upwards, stone walls with cut windows, exits with no doors, and dozens upon dozens of the undead in various stages of rot.

All the undead in an entire necropolis looked with intent toward one lone Boros soldier.

But then, someone showed up at her side- an Azorius mage? The figure certainly seemed to have the armor of one. They looked to Kalokova, simply saying,"Run. Now." It must have been the person who fell in after her.

But she couldn't. Her feet were rooted to the spot, even as the mage raised his hand. As the mage's hand glowed a perfect blue, so bright she thought she might go blind. As the mage released whatever spell it had been into the crowd of undead, melting them away into parts less than what they had been. For some, their flesh melted away. Those with no flesh simply burned into dust, carried back by pure energy, spreading into the necropolis.

The mage turned once more. "Run!" he declared.

"I… I can't," Kalokova said, and, without thinking, her feet carried her forward into the necropolis, full of some still "living" undead, but many newly "dead" undead, too.

She unsheathed her weapon, cutting a couple of the zombies down. Some were elves, eyes full of hate. Others looked like Simic creations, mutants that could hardly stand in their rotting states. Still others were stitched together abominations, the product of the most vile of the Golgari and Simic, projects of a lost age.

But all fell beneath the blade, dust and putrefaction spraying up from agonized corpses and cadavers.

The mage screamed for her to stop, that she didn't know what she was doing, as several of the zombies ran to him, more than ready to tear him apart for desecrating their brethren. He was caught up in a battle as Kalokova ran ahead.

Kalokova knew, with a spell like that, he was going to be fine. She had a task to complete.

She kept running through the necropolis, which was strangely empty.

She caught sight of a small mountain ahead, a hill in the Underground cavern. It spiralled upward to an entrance, and there were three figures.

She knew what she had to do.

She charged forward into a small crowd of dead, deflecting some. One grabbed hold of her arm, almost biting down, before it was hacked away. Still others ran to her, or quickly shambled, rather, right into dirtied steel. They all fell, freshly slain.

Kalokova looked around- there had to be a way up the hill- it was much too steep.

A twinkling caught her eye. She looked down at a zombified elf, and on its waistbelt was a pair of keys. She didn't know if they might be useful, but she had seen a contraption like this in the Underground before, a staircase only formed by the turn of a key.

She took off running again, newly determined. A few more undead corpses shuffled to her, only to be quickly and brutally cut down.

The figures still didn't see her as she arrived at the base of the hill. She scanned around the steep rock face. It was carved with an intricate pattern, that of a dragon and several others around it, flying into some kind of electrical storm. At the forefront was…

Niv-Mizzet. His hand was outstretched in charity, and he was holding… an orb. The image was stretching further than her field of vision could see. She ran over to see what the orb was.

It was painted, unlike the rest of the gray wall, and beneath it was something etched in Draconic. Kalokova couldn't read it, but she saw what the orb contained- a keyhole. It was some feet above the ground, but she didn't care. She took the keyring, and jumped, jamming the key into the hole, turning it, and coming back to the ground. Several indentures slid back in the wall, like a ladder. It was an almost silent process that spread up the cliff face, a process and a device that still remained despite its age.

Kalokova jumped up once more to remove the key, and the steps of the ladder still remained, although they seemed to be moving back to their original position at a snail's pace. A loud grinding noise echoed through the cavern, and Kalokova started up the wall, hoping she was undetected. She slid her sword back into its leather sheath, and began climbing.

At the top, Kalokova saw the steps sliding back into their original positions. As she turned around, she accidentally dropped the keys down the rock face. She sighed, but knew that the task in front of her was much more important.

She looked back. An open archway lead inward, intricately, imprinted upon which was the symbol of the Izzet.

Tentatively, Kalokova walked up to the archway and walked inside. Dusty rooms sat along a massive and lengthy hallway that was partially caved in.

She walked down the hallway, looking into the rooms to see what, or who, might be inside. But there were only tables and beakers and skeletons.

Kalokova reached the end, where the ceiling caved in. She looked up, and light streamed in. She climbed up the rocks until she reached another room with a door thrown ajar. It was steel, grated, and had a sign stuck into it with a knife that said, definitively-

 _Dimir Safehouse. Those unauthorized to enter will face our wrath. Proceed at your own risk, or turn back. Either, to be frank, is fine with us, but one of them will lead to your certain death, now or later._

Kalokova scoffed. She had seen signs like these several times before. They were almost always empty threats. Almost.

She walked through the breach, and there was only another hallway leading to a cavern, smaller though, than the last.

She crept along. In her head, she already worked the idea of capturing them, turning them in, being known in the district, maybe even all of Ravnica, as the one who avenged the deaths of so many, even if she was only remembered for a moment.

She unsheathed her sword again and crept down the hallway, silent.

She heard whispering.

"This crack… the wall is hardly large enough to fit these scrolls through."

A second voice, one farther away, on the outside, perhaps?

Shadows were cast over the ground ahead.

"It's fine, just one at a time."

"How will we get out?"

"Someone will come along later to get you, don't worry."

A third voice.

"What if we're being chased!? What then?"

"I don't know. Defend yourselves. It can't be difficult. It's not like an entire legion is going to be coming after you. How many scrolls are left, Zaido?"

"I don't know Paige! A couple?" The man named Zaido wheezed. He was injured. He had to be the Dimir agent.

"Well, keep at it."

"Are there any soldiers up there?"

"Well, I have a couple vampires keeping watch if that's what you mean."

"No, it's not. Karkas, how many more?"

"Two," Karkas said.

A fourth voice, timid and anxious.

"Uh, gentlemen, did you hear that?"

"No, pontiff, shut your mouth. Last thing I need is to worried right now."

"O… okay."

Kalokova reached the end of the hallway, sword outstretched in her right hand, just covered by the wall. She breathed deeply, preparing for battle. Her eyes opened, and she moved the blade closer to herself, coming closer to the edge.

She breathed even deeper.

"Alright, so that's it?" Paige said from outside. He seemed glad, ecstatic even.

"Yes."

"Very good. We've already sent some agents to come retrieve you. Your service has been greatly valued. See you back at the sanctum tonight."

"Same to you," Zaido said back.

And with that, Paige scrambled to his feet and left.

There was silence for a few moments, and then shouts.

Kalokova stepped out from behind the wall, throwing a dagger from her belt at one of the men before her. She hit a tall, lanky one right in the knee. He fell the the ground amid curses and ravings.

Next, she positioned for the one on the ground, who was sweating profusely from blood loss. She looked down and saw his injury- perhaps life-threatening, though he seemed to be doing somewhat fine.

"So, right on time, huh?" Zaido asked.

Kalokova smirked. "I suppose so."

She walked closer, and the pontiff looked at her with fear.

"Please!" he declared. "This is all a misunderstanding, they forced me to come along! Don't do this! I'm innocent."

"Oh, pontiff," Zaido said with venom in his voice,"you're not fooling anyone."

"I…" the pontiff threw himself on the ground in pleads.

"You're all going to the Monolith, you are. You!" She pointed to Zaido with disgust. "For heinous acts against Ravnica and its people! And you!" She pointed to Krakas, who was rolling on the ground in fury, trying to remove the dagger from his leg. "For assisting this maniac, helping him find refuge and escape! And, finally, the pontiff." She pointed at him and he twitched like an animal deciding whether or not to run. "For doing the same. Those are all crimes for which the angels and the Senate will find you all… most gu-"

She was interrupted.

Someone else had stepped out from behind her.

She turned briefly, and saw in a flash that it was the Azorius mage from before. "Excellent," she exclaimed. "Help me take these wanted criminals in, would you? Or go get some more help."

The mage was silent, just standing there with helmet on. His skin seemed unusual, but Kalokova just chocked it up to cloth on his face. It made sense that he would have it though, since almost every part of him was now covered in some kind of viscera. He was brandishing a buckshot pistol. It sat loose in his hand, full of intent and potential.

"What? Come on now!" she said, chuckling. His behavior was very unbecoming for an Azorius mage, especially one of his stature in the hierarchy of the Azorius, to be is a position as high-risk as this.

Still he didn't move.

"Look, I'm sorry I left you behind back there. I saw that incredible spell you pulled off, wild stuff. I knew you could take care of yourself, and you did. So let's put that behind us and put this-" She pointed at Zaido, Karkas, and the pontiff-"in front."

Still silence, but then… "I am not here to arrest these men."

Kalokova smiled. She didn't understand. "I don't understand," she said, matter-of-factly."

"I have come from a very far place, and forsaken so many bonds and people to be here, Kalokova."

"How do you know my name," she interrupted, but still he continued, a blank look on his face.

"I have done too many wrong things. So you must understand me, this is simply something I must do myself. They will have to die in the process."

Kalokova was stunned. This was not how justice was supposed to work- not even the Boros could be that cruel.

The mage began spinning the pistol in his hand. "Get out of the way," he said to no one, and one person in articular. Now he turned his gaze to Zaido, who was starting to have a panicked expression on his face.

"No." Kalokova stood there, defiant. She twirled her sword in her hand. "I will not allow you to perform such an act of gross misjustice. Perhaps you should leave, hm? I can do this myself if you insist."

Suddenly, the mage's expression changed, and he stared directly to Kalokova. Slowly, he reached up with his free hand to remove his helmet. He slid it off his head, and looked up to Kalokova. She was staring at what a more enlightened person might call a "moonfolk". But she only had one thing to say.

"Are you some kind of Simic creation?"

Yataeso, descendant of the moonfolk of Kamigawa, explorer of the Multiverse, friend to all and mage of so much, looked at the soldier on a world so far away coldly and simply answered,"No. I am from a world far away. I, Yataeso Gotachi, have spent so many years uncovering a mystery, a deception, planted in the heart of the Dimir. And I am so close to solving it, and I believe these three are the key to unlocking it. Now, I will say this one more time- I am a desperate man, and I will get what I need to get, my revenge. I know you desire moving up in your organization, I have seen into your mind. I know you hate conflict, and it is something you never want to encounter again. You simply want peace. If you want it, help me. Help me. By moving. And never coming back."

Kalokova looked over the creature before her in stunned silence. Was he being true, real? Could she trust him…

Or was this simply another Dimir deception?

She looked up into Yataeso Gotachi's eyes, a name she had never heard before, and a being she could not comprehend. White hair, but so youthful, blue skin but no disease, long ears but no mutation, and she settled upon his impossibility. That it must be Zaido playing tricks on her mind to escape.

She turned back to Zaido, but he was still sitting there, looking nervous.

Then she turned back to Yataeso and held up her sword.

It gleamed in the small beam of light, glinting back a reflection of an illusion, an incredible trick.

"You are an illusion. And I cannot allow you to compromise my work."

The fraud looked at her with certainty.

A look of sadness blotted in his eyes, as if he knew he were the villain, not those he was hunting. But he looked to this young girl on a plane so far away, doing a task that could compromise his entire life.

He had never considered himself an impulsive person.

But this was simply something he had to do.

No one could know.

No one.

"Very well, Kalokova Jekira. Then you are of no use to me. If you will not cooperate-"

His mind flashed with darkness and rage at those who forced him to do this.

"-then perhaps your corpse will."

And so he raised his pistol, and the room filled with noise.

And so, Kalokova fell fell to the ground bloodied, defeated, but most unfortunately, dead.


	11. Part 10: What Comes Next

_Part 10_

 _What Comes Next_

 _Ravnica_

The flag flapped quietly on its post, its cloth contorting in determined curves as the rope tied to it struck metal.

It was a quiet day on Ravnica.

Clouds rolled nonchalantly in the sky. There was only silence, save for the flag and the far off muffled screams of a Rakdos revel.

Jelika lied napping on the roof of the Orzhov Bank in the 19th district of Ravnica. Her cot was not very comfortable but she hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, having been interrupted on a street patrol by some new Dimir blood. She had brought them into the nearest station for interrogation, but of course they knew nothing- or at least such knowledge had not been coerced out of them in the time she and some other interrogators had.

A soft breeze rolled in from the west, with the smell of burning coal and searing pork from the nearby Furnace street.

There was a stunning flash that still couldn't wake Jelika.

But, paradoxically, footsteps certainly did.

She sat up in an instant, grasping for her sword, not caring to see who exactly was approaching-

But a soft voice spoke.

"Hello, Jelika."

She froze.

She stayed motionless for a few moments, and closed her eyes, then sighed.

"Why now, are you here?" She looked up into the familiar blue face of Yataeso. It was much less kind than she had known before.

"I have a lead on Lavinia."

"Yataeso," she said, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes,"that case has been closed for so long. Please, I know you-"

"I would have thought you'd have more respect for your mentor," said Yataeso, coldly.

"You know damn well that that case is closed, and that she is dead or gone or worse. Please, you came to me a thousand years ago saying you had a lead then too. Let me guess, is it another clairvoyant child that has seen what really happened? Hm?"

"And if it is?" asked Yataeso.

Jelika chuckled. "Then I'd believe you even less. Now let me get some rest please. I had a difficult night last night. I got jumped by these three Dimir, and I-"

"No." There was no ounce of sympathy in his voice, and Jelika could feel it. "This is not the same as last time. And I know exactly where to go to get proof, but I need your help."

 _Hopestream_

"Mad? More like insane!"

"Yataeso has-"

"Simply rogue! There's no other way to put it, I don't-"

"SILENCE!" Venser yelled over the crowd.

And when Venser spoke, everyone listened.

Denitt looked up to Kuesh, who had a stern look on his face, staring at Venser.

"We," Venser started,"cannot allow this to disrupt the fact that we still have many young planeswalkers that need training. I know you are all concerned about Yataeso- and I will not lie- he is very important to Hopestream!"

The room burst once more into argument as many mages and soldiers and agents looked at each other uncertainly.

Everyone had gathered into Venser's sanctum at the top of the mountain at Hopestream, and its walls echoed back all the sound.

The room accelerated into confusion and disorder once more.

"ENOUGH!" Venser could not stand from his throne in his frailed state, but his voice was as booming as ever. The room once again fell silent. "I will not have you all shouting here. I have been in contact with the Flamescroll Hideout, and they say their contacts within the Izzet on Ravnica have noticed what has been occurring in their city. Yataeso is hardly keeping a low profile, and I believe it is imperative that we subdue him before he causes more damage than he already has."

"And," one voice from the crowd piped up,"how do you plan to do that?"

Venser appeared to be mulling it over in his head.

Denitt looked down at his feet, remembering what had happened on Zendikar. Not much had happened after they left the Eye of Ugin. They had planeswalked back almost immediately after, stopping only for Kuesh to teach Denitt more about the flora of Zendikar and after they had searched for some kind of herb that Vura, the vampire alchemist of Hopestream, had needed for some potion or other.

Now he was back with Kuesh, who was hotly debating what happened next to Yataeso, and what happened next to Denitt, whom everyone seemed to expect was to be a hero.

"Do you have a plan?" Kuesh asked demandingly at Venser.

"Yeah, come on with it then? Are we going to have to talk with the Firescrolls again? We all know how well that went last time!" said the voice from before.

Venser closed his eyes in deep thought again, then opened them, both eyes full of certain clarity.

"Yes," he said finally," I have a plan."

 _Ravnica_

"So," Jelika said once the two had reached ground level again,"where next?"

"Easy. When I looked into the Dimir agent's mind, I saw visions of his hideout, where to go next. To his higher-ups." Yataeso was staring around at the buildings in the district square. It was a large courtyard-like place with towering trees and unkempt but still very beautiful grass. The square itself was flanked on all sides by markets selling foods and clothing and other various stuffs the average citizen might need.

Yataeso never particularly cared for nature, but it was undeniable for him that it offered some level of comfort. Especially in troubling times like these.

"And then?" Jelika asked.

Yataeso had spoken and explained to her for so long the nature of the situation that he hadn't really had time to come up with a plan after that.

"Well," he said quickly,"probably to find their high-ups and then up and up."

"Then?" Jelika asked.

"Well, we'll take it as far to the top as we need before I can find what plane they send Lavinia to."

Jelika sighed. She was not a planeswalker, but ages ago, she and Yataeso had been caught up in the affairs of the Simic before the guild became so controversial, or at least even more controversial than when the Decamillenial debacle had happened. She had been captured by more ambitious biomancers that wanted to test their newest creation on subjects no matter the cost. Soon though, other parts of the guild that found that work disgusting exposed it, but only months later. By the time Jelika had been released, she looked almost the same, except for two things- a large scar that traveled down her face, neck and back from an incision that must have caused a disfiguring amount of pain, and being immortal.

Or, almost immortal.

Yataeso had only known her at that time through Lavinia, since she had been Jelika's mentor, for she had seen great promise in the young woman.

After she and the other subjects had been rescued, Yataeso had seen to it that he should teach Jelika, too. About what was beyond Ravnica and the places beyond. She had always thought they were fictional stories.

The two hadn't talked much since Lavinia had "died", not in the hundreds upon hundreds of years since it had happened.

"How long do think it would take before the leadership of the Dimir takes notice?" she asked.

"I can't say. But," he pulled a slip of paper out of his coat with his gloved hand, and held it before Jelika. "This is the first place to go. It's very close. Only a couple hours walk. Shall we go?"

"I suppose," said Jelika.

She clutched the piece of paper from Yataeso's hand, looking at him quizzically.

"Look, I don't care if the leadership of the Dimir take notice. We were very well-known peacekeepers once. There's no reason to assume we can't outsmart them. After all, we've both seen the tricks up their sleeves." Yataeso looked at Jelika hopefully.

"Okay, then Mr. Peacekeeper. Let's go."

 _Hopestream_

Denitt had not yet seen Tarkir. But he had been assured it was just as dangerous as any other non-dragon-filled-plane.

"You've heard of dragons, right?" asked Kuesh as they were getting ready to leave.

Denitt slung a pack over his shoulder and nodded. "I remember someone coming to my village, talking about how their own had been destroyed by a few of roving dragons."

"Well, they're everywhere on Tarkir. Some planeswalkers make a point to slay a few. In fact, the folks over at Burnwillow- they make it a point to slay them, it's like a rite of passage. There are a lot less now than there used to be. But don't assume that that means you won't get jumped by one. Some of these dragons have adapted to tell planeswalkers apart from the rest of the populations that they have subjugated, so-"

"Subjugated? How?" Denitt looked dumbstruck. From the stories he had heard of dragons he hadn't known them to exactly be great empire-raisers.

"Not all dragons there are chaotic creatures. Many, in fact, are very measured beings. Almost all of the plane is ruled by the five dragonlords. Still they have lived there for nigh three-thousand years. They have build their own cities, citadels, outposts. But just because I say this, don't assume they are friendly. There are still plenty of dragons and their followers who would wish to kill you."

"Okay," said Denitt, not exactly very okay with the whole premise.

"Get ready to walk," Kuesh said.

Denitt looked at him. "Literal-type of planes-type?"

Kuesh chuckled. "Planes-type." He pulled a piece of paper from the sack around his shoulder and sighed, then stuffed it back in, dug a bit, and pulled out another. He held it out to Denitt. "Jump directions to Tarkir," he said.

"Alright." Denitt took it and read it.

"Ready?" Kuesh asked.

"Sure." Denitt lied to himself. Worst case scenario, he thought, he could just wing it.

"See ya there." And with a bright flash, Kuesh was gone.

Denitt looked down at the paper one more time, reading it more carefully. He was going to a plane full of dragons, and people who fought and died for them, where people like him wantonly went around slaying the beasts, making him a prime target. That's what he was going to be? A target on a plane full of destructive, deadly beasts. He cringed at the idea, but he supposed he at least had to try going.

He looked back up from the paper and thought of the place the paper had described. A mountain range with cool water running through it, where starlight shines on an eternally lit peak, where monks spend days in and out. He imagined clouds floating above and below the mountains, and dragons of ice, not of fire, standing watch over the hills themselves. He imagined a room lined with precisely cut stone and painted red wood, with incense burners and squared windows looking out into endless icy crevasses.

And then he thought of going there, instead of here.

And so he did.

He heard a loud whooshing sound, the same as he had heard before, though it seemed so much louder this time. It was to his surprise that the reason it was so loud was that he was on Tarkir already, but 20 feet in the air. He opened his eyes and saw the exact place he described- crevasses, measured stone-cut buildings, monks training around- but all from a vantage point higher than he was comfortable with. He was already falling. He shouted, and the monks looked up, but they were all powerless to stop what was happening.

Denitt hit the ground with a sickening thump, and dug his face into the dirt. Nothing really hurt. Except his foot. It felt as if it were broken. He clutched it, but soon realized the monks were circling around him in contemplation.

"Who- how?" One of them asked. They didn't seem to really have an answer to what had just happened.

"Are you okay, child?" Another asked.

Denitt came out of his pained stupor to reply that yes, he was fine. He sat up, and looked in front of him at the stone-cut building, where Kuesh was now walking out in concern at the commotion.

He was wearing a gold medallion around his neck and a man was trailing behind him that looked none like the other monks.

"Denitt!?" He looked incredulous. "What happened?"

"I just walked here in the middle of the air!"

"What happened to your foot?" Kuesh asked.

Denitt was still clutching it.

"GUESS."

Kuesh sighed. "Tana, can you help me bring him inside?"

"No no," Denitt said, "I got it." He stood on his good knee, and started shuffling to the building. The monks around him looked at each other in confusion, which was, to Denitt, an appropriate response.

"Well, it's a good thing we arrived when we did, Denitt. A lot of strange things are happening here."

Kuesh led him inside the building. The air was thick with smoke and vapor. A man stood at the far wall, away from the door. He was meditating, facing Denitt. He could see the scars running down the man's face, and an aged and yet trim beard. His nose seemed crooked, as if it had met a terrible force in the past.

He opened his eyes the smallest amount. They were dark brown, and kind. He looked to Denitt, and spoke with a growled voice. "Hello, Denitt."

"Uh- how do you know my name?" Denitt asked. He took a step forward but paused. The others behind him didn't move or even twitch- nothing.

"I am Grasada." His dark robes shifted like sand as he stood from the floor.

"And why, Grasada, are you here?" Denitt was unsure of this man, but if no one else was moving it was safe to assume the man might have been an old friend, perhaps of Kuesh's.

"Because you are very important, I have heard. Great potential, but unfortunately untapped. It seems that quite an amount of chaos has followed your first couple of weeks at Hopestream. Kuesh has told about this." Grasada walked over to an incense burner, and snuffed out the sticks currently smoldering inside.

"Okay…?" Denitt still didn't understand.

"I suppose I should just come out with it now- I am here to recruit you, Denitt."

"Recruit me?"

"Yes, Denitt."

"To… to what?"

Grasada smiled.

"To the Gatewatch."


	12. Part 11: Tarkir

_Part 11_

 _Tarkir_

What the hell is the Gatewatch?

Denitt could only watch as Kuesh put his arm on his shoulder and said, very definitively,"Great idea!"

"Uh-" Denitt started.

Grasada smiled, looking to Kuesh. "Now, let the boy decide."

"Uh-"

"Of course," Kuesh said. "It is him joining the Gatewatch. I understand."

"Uh-"

Grasada chuckled good naturedly. "You always a little to jealous to jo-"

"WHAT THE HELL IS THE GATEWATCH!?" Denitt shouted. The room, of course, fell silent and everyone looked to Denitt.

"Well, that's, uh… that's an excellent question," Grasada replied, rather hastily. "It's a group of planeswalkers that traverse the Multiverse, fixing problems and restoring balance."

Denitt didn't understand. How many planeswalkers could there be that they could form some kind of policing force for worlds upon worlds? Denitt hadn't even seen very many, and still it seemed outside the jurisdiction of even hundreds of planeswalkers working in tandem.

"But," Grasada added,"if you want the full answer, which I'm certain you do, it's a millennia old force of planeswalkers from all different planes and from all walks of life who have come together for whatever their individual reasons might be to understand the Multiverse and keep it from tearing itself apart, as it is wont to do. It is full of only the most exceptional beings. And… the reason I have found interest in you, despite members perhaps living as planeswalkers for hundreds of years and walking to innumerable planes, never having known of the Gatewatch's existence, is that… well, long ago, clairvoyants talked of others. Other clairvoyants who could wrest any evil from any plane. They gave descriptions of that being. And I've heard you very much fit the bill. We're excited at the idea that we might encounter that being, especially since we lie so close to the precipice of disaster."

Denitt blinked. Was he…? He had been told already. That he had powers he couldn't explain that could allow him to become some kind of hero. But he had never truly considered it. He actually hadn't thought of it until now, and now he thought of himself as only a human with the ability to do what most others couldn't. "I'm no foretold hero… I'm just some kid."

"Well," Grasada said,"I think there is more to yourself than you might imagine. And regardless, I've heard from Kuesh that you have encountered Nicol Bolas. I think you have more experience with him than most of the Gatewatch. We need people like you Denitt."

"Bolas…?"

"Yes. The Elder. Nicol. Whatever you call him. He is bringing the Multiverse to its knees. He is sowing chaos in planes far beyond. He is manifesting death to so many worlds. And we have become weakened by his minions who have killed our people and infiltrated our Watch. That's why we need people like you. Strong. Upstanding. Incorruptible."

"I am none of those things," Denitt said. "Well, I mean, not really." He didn't know how to respond. A boy, barely a man, from a backwoods swamp on Arin, or Dominaria- it wasn't like him. He certainly wasn't weak or evil or corrupt, though.

"You may think you are not. Anyone can be, if they put their minds to it. We need people like you."

It had only been a couple weeks but he thought that Hopestream might as well have been a new place to call home. He didn't know how he felt about leaving it.

"But Hopestream…" Denitt began. He didn't have to finish.

"I understand Denitt. If you ever change your mind-" and here he pulled a small slip of paper from the inside of his cloak and offered it to Denitt- "this is where you can find us."

Denitt took the slip.

Grasada stood back, and a bright light encircled him.

He was gone.

Denitt looked down at the paper.

 _Ravnica. 23 District, Center, Tar Street. Plinth Tavern._ And written hastily on it- _Walk up to the barkeep and ask for the Rainwater Special. When he asks how you want it say "Walky" I know it sounds strange but we've had to change the code recently, so_ And there it trailed off, without punctuation and without handwriting easily legible. On the bottom of the slip was stamped a ring of five colors. White, blue, black, red, and green in gradient. In the middle was a crude looking tower of sorts.

"So Denitt, that was unexpected. He told me that you were foretold to be here today."

"Can these clairvoyants predict anything?" Denitt was amazed at the power of whoever could do these things.

"No. I don't truly understand the skill myself. It's quite beyond me."

"I see." Denitt really didn't but he thought that keeping the subject at hand was only going to confuse him more.

"Then I think we should get a move on."

The few guards, or monks, or both, in the room looked to Kuesh as he walked to the arched doorway.

One of them stepped forward in front of Kuesh. "Ojutai has allowed you company in his lands. I recommend you do not spoil that trust."

"He and your company are not something I would like to forsake. Don't you worry."

The guard-monk stepped back and opened the path to the door. "I certainly hope not. For everyone's sake."

Kuesh nodded and walked out. Denitt followed out, stealing a look at the same monk who had stopped Kuesh. He looked complacent, almost disdainful. His white and red robes billowed in the soft breeze from outside. A large halberd was strapped to his back.

As Denitt walked outside, he looked around again. The mountains rose in large valleys far and away. They became hazy the farther they went as rivers and waterfalls cut and diced them, spraying foam and mist into the distance.

"Well," Kuesh said, only a few feet to Denitt's right, fixing a strap on his pack,"I suppose we should get going."

"What are we here to do, anyway," Denitt inquired.

"There is an old planeswalker here. She has kept peace among much of the plane, but she has grown older and older. Her power wanes. I am here to receive her mantle."

"You're going to be the one to protect the plane now?"

"No," Kuesh said, throwing his pack over his shoulder and fastening it. "The mantle is more symbolic than literal. It's a large piece of ceramic with the name of the plane imprinted on it in the native language. It's handed off to those planeswalkers who decide to defend the plane they were born on. When next a planeswalker who intends to keep order on this plane has their spark ignited, they will receive the mantle."

"Oh."

"And it's also an excellent time to teach you to ins-and-outs of the plane." He turned to Denitt and smiled. "Come on. The journey probably won't be too long but it will be tumultuous."

And so they started down the hill, away from the temple behind them.

"The Temur."

"And the last one?"

"The Sutai."

"And then-"

"And then Ugin was saved, so the story goes."

"Well, what do you mean?"

It had been a couple hours. The two were walking on the plains Denitt had seen from the temple. The stone tower was still barely visible behind them, a silent arbiter over a massive valley. No one seemed to live here. Perhaps because of the cold.

"Sarkhan, the one who turned Ugin and Bolas into humans. He claimed that a bit more than a thousand years ago, Ugin brought him here through tormenting voices. Even though the khans and clans had exterminated the dragons, they were reborn. And that is how they have risen to prominence today."

"That seems reasonable."

"Well, that's not the strangest part. Ugin had died a thousand years prior."

"Dead dead or just barely-alive-dead."

"Dead dead."

"So how was he res-"

"I'm getting to that."

Denitt listened in. What was being implied couldn't possibly be true. "He was sent back in time," Kuesh declared certainly.

"That-" His beliefs were confirmed. "That's not possible."

"Ugin is a massively powerful being. Don't' be so quick to be certain."

"So now he's alive again?"

"Yes," Kuesh nodded. "And very intent on getting this old power back."

There was a rustling behind them, in the treeline of the trail. Kuesh suddenly held up his hand.

"But," he whispered, as if this was one of the most important things he had ever said,"now those whom the dragonlords subjugate grow restless. They have returned to their old ways. The Atarka, whose lands we near, are no longer called-"

"Did you just say Atarka!? Or perhaps you are agents of the Sultai!"

The world fell silent for a second. A voice had issued from behind them, a man's voice- and it was very, very angry.

Kuesh turned suddenly to Denitt. "Run."

And they began. Shouts came from the trees.

"They serve the old ways, the dragonlord!"

"Betrayers!"

"Agents of doom!"

They kept running, pursued by- whom? But it became certain the second Denitt applied though to it- these were Temur lands, and the pair were non-Temur trespassers.

Denitt's leg was pulsing already, the temporary scars of his recent fall. And then, from behind, a great bundle of rope, and a hollering of victory. Denitt's leg was caught, and he tripped. It only took him a few seconds to get out, but already it was too late. He heard Kuesh shout, and realized they had both met the same fate.

A large warrior with a club of frozen wood came and dragged Denitt one-handed. With fright, Denitt looked around, finding Kuesh struggling against several people. He kicked decisively and punched heartily and still is was not enough. A woman wielding a thin metal staff brought it down on his head, and that was that.

Denitt was thrown near him, only a couple feet away. The Temur circled around them, grunting and panting, and angrier all the same.

An old sage stepped through them, looking even less ragged than the younger ones he pushed through. He had a cragged face and a thin white beard, but he still had fire in his eyes.

"You ran us for quite a bit, you two." He came and knelt near Kuesh, who was rousing, his bruised head coming off the snowy ground.

"Des...ereved. I think," Kuesh declared.

The sage's eyes grew narrower, but suddenly he reeled back, standing on his feet and threw his arm out. But this was not a punch. He was reaching out a hand to Kuesh to pull him up.

"You're just the old fool I remember you being," Kuesh said, and Denitt understood.

"Maybe you should not have run off like that. Stirring suspicion- especially in a time like this? You ought to know better. Our people are a hair's width of cracking under the strain Atarka is sending to quell us."

Kuesh accepted the hand, pulled to his feet.

At the end of this statement, the same burly warrior who had pulled Denitt through the snow stepped out from the ring surrounding Kuesh, Denitt, and the sage. "Father, you know this man?" He sounded as accusatory as confused.

"They are no agents of Atarka, nor of the Sultai, child." The sage's voice sounded thoughtful, looking to Kuesh, who was dusting off his robes.

The sage's son grunted in frustration, not able to comprehend who and what was happening before him. Though Denitt disliked him for his boorish manner, he could understand.

"Well then, I suppose you're here to see Narset then, hm? Interesting lot she's throwing around. Stepping in with the Jeskai these days, don't know if you've heard."

"I have."

"Well, she's the warden or what, but still supporting people like us."

"People like you how?" Kuesh asked.

"She's a freedom fighter. Always has been I suspect, just trying to keep herself alive in the face of those who think she might be… disposable. Ojutai. But, all that power, that knowledge. I can appreciate that she's fighting a fight like ours but… it's all going to her head, really."

"Is she at threat?" Kuesh asked.

Denitt was watching the two speak back and forth, but he was tiring of it. He looked around at the circle of people, who all looked back with frustrated faces. This was clearly not what they were there for.

"Not necessarily. Suspect myself that Ojutai knows about it thought." The sage chuckled. "Whole damn world knows about it probably."

A light flashed across Kuesh's face. "Would you mind coming with us? I think we could use company in this place."

"The Temur are a nomadic people. We have no allegiances." The sage looked much younger through his beaming grin. "But for you, Kuesh, anything."

"Most excellent," Kuesh said.

The sage's son spoke up in protest. "Monmotna will suspect something! She said that we must prepare the feast once her pack shows up tomorrow."

The sage narrowed his eyes while still smiling. "To the afterlife with that fool. We have a new mission. With allies like these- I have seen what they can do-" He gestured to Kuesh and Denitt, though Denitt suspected that the sage was referencing towards them being planeswalkers rather than the demonstrated skill of the two in combat. Denitt could hardly wield a sword, never mind battling whatever terrifying monster "Monmotna" must be. "They are powerful! It is time for the cover to come off. Too long has this insurrection bent to the will of the dragons. Kuesh, would you help us defeat Monmotma and her pack?"

Kuesh looked delighted. "Not what I came here for, but we can help each other out, certainly."

"Wonderful," the sage said.

Kuesh walked towards the sage and exchanged words with him.

"Ah!" the sage mused. "I forgot." He turned to Denitt. "My name," he said, extending a hand,"is Tagam, lineage of Tasigur, and purger of dragons, slayer of the unjust."


	13. Part 12: Fair Trade

_Part 12_

 _Fair Trade_

 _DISTRICT 24 UNDER SIEGE_

An image of, supposedly, a human in a hooded cloak.

 _HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PERSON?_

Underneath it in small writing:

 _Actual race, gender, and ancestry unknown._

A call to action.

 _IF YOU HAVE THIS THIS BEING, OR HAVE KNOWLEDGE OF OF THEIR WHEREABOUTS, OR RECOGNIZE THIS CLOAKS INSIGNIA-_

Even though it was a blank blue and white cloak.

 _CONTACT YOUR LOCAL JUSTICAR'S OFFICE. YOUR COOPERATION IS_ _ **PARAMOUNT**_ _._

Yataeso could not believe what was before him. The fact that they thought that he could be caught, especially since they couldn't tell anything about him- laughable.

He walked away. Ever since returning, he had made an effort to change his cloak as often as possible. He slipped in and out of stalls and street markets, nabbing one here and there. At the moment, he was wearing a purple and orange cloak- ostentatious, but who would assume he was a criminal?

A woman stared at him and scoffed. He narrowed his eyes- a mark of uncaring that went unnoticed since his face was obscured. He had his mission.

"Brothers and sisters, will you allow this contagion to spread through the streets uncleaned!?" The minister continued his sermon.

Yataeso had to admit- the Orzhov had always had a thing for wonderfully large chapels, but this one… it had to have been the most glorious in all the district.

The Second Church of Meranich's Life Wish was a testament to all that was Orzhov. Walls of gold stretched skyward, over one-hundred feet in the air. Multi-tiered levels were sat upon by eager churchgoers, those who so desperately wanted to be purged of subservience to anything that was Orzhov. Vampires patrolled the aisles, looking for loyal servants just as much as pickpockets- and their next meal.

Yataeso sat at a pew near the highest point in the church. The priest at the front was enrapturing the audience before him with grand tales of the Obzedat's deeds to the people of Ravnica and their good will towards willing followers.

But these stories were not what Yataeso was here for.

He leaned to the woman next to him. "Jelika, are you sure this is the place?"

"Trust me," she replied,"if that slimy git is anywhere on Ravnica, it would be in this cathedral." She was talking about the merfolk Tanya, the self-purported "mother of fathoms". She had been responsible for dealings with the darker factions of Ravnica like the Dimir and Golgari. Here, Jelika had said, was to be the binding of a trade between the three guilds.

Yataeso couldn't be sure but he had no choice but to trust Jelika.

The sermon continued for several minutes.

Suddenly, Jelika tugged on the sleeve of Yataeso's robe. "I see her. Be calm and follow me. I've dealt with her guild before. And even beyond the experiments."

Yataeso had heard her cursing about Tanya the entire day as she discussed her plan with the moonfolk. Jelika harbored a grudge against all that was Simic, but against what Tanya represented in particular- some sort of rising of the darkest parts of the Simic. The kind that found biological abandon fascinating.

"Now," she had said as they walked to the steadfast doors of The Second Church of Meranich's Life Wish,"the Boros had worked so hard to crack that ring those centuries ago. Blew the door on the case wide open, and people still haven't forgotten, least of all those they basically tortured with immortality, but here she is, her and her merfolk, working right under the noses of those pompous idiots at the Forums! Azor would be ashamed were he here today. And so would Lavinia." Yataeso knew that that remark hadn't been meant to hurt him, but it still stung. "Wouldn't be surprised if they were talking bribes out from the Dimir. Throw them all in the Monolith and let our Boros wardens have their way with those corrupt bastards, I say." She chuckled darkly.

And now there the two were, walking down the copiously long staircase, and she did it again. "Tanya is going to have a lot of security. Thinks it'll help her, but a fat lot of good it'll probably end up being." She reached into her civilian coat and pulled away a small, metal tab. A savle. A dagger. A magical implement. She dug in her coat again and pulled out a hilt with no blade, though it could easily have been mistaken for a courier's container. At the blade's end was a small slit into which Jelika pushed the metal tab. It slotted in, and the next second, the hilt lit up.

"These things are standard issue," Jelika said to a confused Yataeso. "You might have remembered these last time you were here. They were an Izzet passion project but the Boros have been taking them more seriously as a method of weapon concealment. Love these things. Tanya sure isn't about to though, tell you that much." The two had reached the end of the staircase now, where the door to the current level was. Jelika pushed it open.

And it was immediately obvious who Tanya was. On the other side of the balcony was an envoy of ghosts and mutants surrounding a merfolk who sat with some determinate need not to listen to what the priest was saying. She stared around at the people and ghosts and zombies on the balcony in disinterest. This was clearly not what she was there for. The merfolk's turquoise skin glittered distractingly in the torch and candlelight thrown at it from the walls. Yataeso had to squint just to look at her.

Jelika pulled him off to the side behind several rows of pews. "The priest should finish shortly." They walked to the side of a door inlaid in the back wall. It was impossible to see the congregation from the distance they were from the balcony, and Yataeso could not tell what what "shortly" meant besides the fact that the priest was obviously building in his tone.

"And I say again, to serve the Orzhov is a task of beautiful resignation! An undeath as fulfilling as life! So tell me, will you allow yourself to fall prey to the machinations of the Dimir or Sim-" He stopped suddenly and Yataeso turned his head to see Tanya raise her eyebrows, but the priest had picked up just as immediately,"-ultaneously the Selesnya, both purveyors of lies? I say no! One spreads and deception and the other falsehood, and so the question must be asked- in this, are they truly much different. No! Come then and join a church and a community with your best wants and who wants your best abilities at its heart! JOIN SOMETHING GREATER!" He stopped, and almost all in attendance got to their feet; even the vampires stopped patrolling to turn and clap. A racket of pure noise filled the hall, echoing back and forth. Still Tanya was as stoic and unmoved as ever. The clapping stopped but the sound remained for a few moments, and people began to filter out. Some fell to their knees and began chanting in some kind of strike of religiously, as if a lightning bolt of divine need had struck them. Yataeso has never understood how mere words could move someone to collapse and worship not even something they could not see, but only the ideal of it.

Tanya and her envoy began to stir. Several ghosts led the procession. They walked towards the door at the back of the balcony, nearer and nearer to Jelika and Yataeso.

The ghosts looked down to the pair and eyed them over, but since they were two busy looking forward, glassy-eyed and complacent, they simply went forward while the undead servants opened the door. The entire group filtered in and the door shut, clicked, and locked. Now the balcony was nearly empty except for the few who were still praying and chanting. After a minute or so, Jelika walked around Yataeso and faced the door. She pulled the savle out of her coat and inserted it into the lock. She flicked it and suddenly a blade of light exploded from the end and tore through the door. No one looked. The door swung inward and they walked through it into a dimly lit corridor.

The walls had begun to molder.

There was a distinct smell that caused an immediate revulsion.

And worst of all, both of these things were caused by the same thing- this was not a median between the chapel hall and some shady backroom, but a prison whose inmates had long since rotted away.

Jelika did not flinch, however. She seemed perfectly use to it. "When you've cracked Rakdos carnariums for as long as I have, you get use to it," she said, seeing Yataeso lurch.

"I… see," he heaved in response. "Let's go I suppose…"

"Lets."

...

Narset carried herself with an undeniable grace, some temperament of a past that did not fit with her other natures.

"I was just in the business of organizing a great party." She slumped backward into a throne of wood and gold, crossing a leg. Her gown flowed like a river and sparkled in the light of the dome roof's window.

"We've heard," Denitt and Kuesh both mused irritably. And they had. Every single guard to Narset's palace had taken time away to talk about the party to anyone who listened- including those they were shepherding.

"Well, if you're not too busy-"

"-saving all of the Multiverse from the machinations of a millennia old planeswalker with a pencha-"

"Yes yes all well and good," Narset replied, narrowing her eyes and scowling.

"You're still so set on your celebrations-"

"-despite my age?" Narset chuckled, and Kuesh looked taken aback.

Denitt arched his eyebrow. "Do you two know each other?"

"Ooh we had a stint a century or so back. Nothing very… large." Narset closed here eyes, preparing for a torrent of words she received in kind.

Kuesh fumed. "I'm here for your mantle! And Hopestream doesn't care about how many innuendos you throw out. You offered to give it up, and I don't care if you throw a party to celebrate every word you say, we're here for it. Maybe the _next_ person to take it up won't be so foolhardy!" Kuesh finished his rant and composed himself.

Denitt couldn't help but crack a smile.

Narset reached behind her and pulled out an ivory box, then threw it in front of Kuesh. It exploded not into a million shards, but with a crash that echoed throughout the hall.

Denitt grabbed for his ears but Kuesh looked forward in angered resignation.

"If Tamiyo could see you now…" he mumbled as Denitt lowered his arms.

"Say what you want. Despite what you might interpret as idiotic carnality, I am still measured at heart." She smiled as if she had Kuesh right she wanted him. "Unlike you."

Kuesh snapped up the box and walked off, his robe bustling like a waterfall.

Denitt rushed after.

When they were outside, Denitt came to Kuesh's side.

"What happened in there?" Denitt asked.

"Narset is so set on fulfilling her passion rather than progress or defense that she will forsake such an important duty to act upon it."

"I've never seen you do that before. Not angry… furious."

"Well, of all the people who could deserve it…"

The two walked onto a stone balcony. The whole palace was made of stone, built on a mountain, and overlooking a city, one of the only ones that wasn't under Dromoka's control, anyway. Or the Abzan rebels.

Currently, the center was occupied by the Temur they had travelled with. They seemed to be patronizing the bars and taverns of the city, causing a kind of controlled chaos in their wake. The town definitely seemed livelier.

A thought struck Denitt. "Won't the dragons know we're here?" he asked.

"I certainly hope not."

"Well- what are we still doing here?"

"A little light espionage never hurt anyone."

They continued walking down the stone promenade, which promptly turned into an egregiously long set of steps that lead into the village.

"Aren't we… what happened to Yataeso?"

"Last I heard, before we left, some members of Hopestream were going to do their best to track him down. I wouldn't worry about it."

"Still… he's going to Ravnica just because of what I said?"

"He's very calm and collected, Denitt, but for Lavinia, he would do very much. He is very impulsive. I guess I can hardly blame him; he knew her for so long, only to have her torn from him. Sad indeed. I myself spent much time comforting him, but I suppose he really never wanted to be comforted anyway."

They walked the rest of the way downwards in silence. Denitt took a glance around at the mountains adjoining the settlement. They went unusually high, but still waterfalls and brilliantly green trees grew and flowed over them. The place looked beautiful, but he had a sinking feeling that whatever war was engulfing the plane couldn't be too far away from the place.

They reached the last step. "Why are the people of this plane so set on revolution?"

Kuesh stopped. "I knew you would eventually ask that." He turned to face Denitt with a warm smile. "This is important too, a lesson every planeswalker should learn, but few desire to."

He sighed. "Every action you take has consequences. Even if they are not bad. Even if they help, people will remember. If you go to a plane with a cruel regime there, and you help some resistance, then it turns out that it was all a ploy- that the resistance was really the cruel ones, you will have to deal with the ramifications of what you have just done. Do not perform any action without knowing what it will do. I've seen too many good planeswalkers die or become disfigured because they didn't read into what they were doing."

Denitt asked the question Kuesh was holding over him. "And what happened here?"

"A young boy by the name of Domri Rade some few hundred years ago came and killed the dragonlord Kolaghan and took control of an entire army. Then he left, and all under his command didn't know what to do. So they went to the tasks they had performed before- they caused chaos. And this is not the kind of chaos in which no one really gets hurt and nothing really gets damaged. This was the kind of chaos in which entire empires and cities were leveled. Domri came back expecting the same people he had 'freed' to be scraping at his heels, but they had long since disposed him. So started a wave that has led us here." Kuesh finished his story as they walked into the village.

The sage from earlier spotted them, coming from a tavern only a few steps away. He was obviously drunk. "Areya ready t' go, then?" He staggered but regained his composure.

"Gather the people. I have time. Let-"

And then there was a flash.

...

Jelika put a finger up, and Yataeso paused. His hood silently billowed in the wind outside.

"And you say you have it?" Tanya's voice rang through the breeze. Drops were beginning to fall onto the three-hundred-foot high roof of The Second Church of Meranich's Life Wish. A storm was brewing in the dark gray sky above.

"Of course." An unknown voice, but deep and rugged. Someone snapped their fingers, and there was a horrible grinding.

Yataeso gripped the wall harder as a gust of wind took his hood off. He quickly snatched it back and looked out to the horizon of Ravnica. So many buildings, but very few measuring in size to this. He wondered how they could still stand, anything to keep his mind off of how high up he was, how a solid breeze could knock him straight off, and who knows if he'd have enough time to planeswalk away?

"This is the device? It seems so… non-mechanical?"

"What were you expecting?" A different voice, high and female. And agitated.

"I couldn't say. Szadek has been dead for far too long. No document except one details its use, and that had to be scrounged up from the deepest Dimir archives."

"And you have the information? The money?" Tanya said.

"Here. Everything on Lavinia. I'd imagine the publications would pay a pretty penny for all of Ravnica to know the truth. So much media wanting to be served a good story."

A blur above, and Yataeso looked up. There was nothing and nobody.

"In trade for the device." Now a fourth voice, shrewd and nasally. "Say, what do you plan to do with this? What could possibly be on one of these worlds that you could possibly want."

"I'm sure the Consortium would not like for you to know."

 _The Consortium… he had heard of them before..._

"Very well."

Jelika rapped Yataeso on the shoulder. She held her hand up. Four fingers.

"The device teleports to the plane where those you most need are. It can be recalibrated however, with incantations-" The high female voice stopped.

Whispering.

Jelika turned to Yataeso and mouthed "Did you see something up there a minute ago?"

Yataeso nodded.

Jelika's face turned white as she unsheathed her savle and rounded the corner.

Yataeso was momentarily shocked but he too rounded the corner, reaching into his robes and pulling out a pistol and a dagger, one in each hand, each wielded imperfectly.

He immediately saw what Jelika had heard. An informant had lept off the roof above and informed the woman, a human with a wrinkled and indignant face, of the visitors around the corner.

"You are under arrest!"

"For what, fool? We have the permits to be here. We are not trespassing."

"For stealing from the Dimir!"

"I'm trading it." A human with the nasally voice, and milky eyes, marking him as a newly undead slave.

Yataeso stepped in. "The Azorius would like to see your permits." He still technically had authority here…

"How about-" Tanya drew a blade of leaves and steel. "No?" Several members of her bodyguard stepped out from the shadows and followed in kind, though their blades were much more darkened.

Jelika's savle threw up it's light. Yataeso pointed his pistol at Tanya.

"You _will_ come with us, or you will die up here. Your choice."

The undead man reached to his belt and pulled a dagger out, rusted and o-

A beam of light came out of the savle's blade and incinerated the zombie.

Screaming and angered shouts.

Yataeso looked for the device they had spoken of- the one he had come there for. It was in a stone crate on the ground, left there unneatly in all the commotion. He ran for it.

One of Tanya's envoy came to stop him, a heavily decayed zombie of a creature with a gold implement on its face. It lept in the way, but Yataeso pulled the trigger of his pistol, and grapeshot peppered the zombie, and so it laid there motionless.

He looked around for Jelika, who was busy cutting the Orzhov envoy to pieces, screaming "RESISTING ARREST! RESISTING!" in between swings.

Yataeso reached for the box, but the woman with the sallow face had noticed him. She threw the blade of her sabre onto the box, threatening. "And," she said,"what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"This is now property of the Forum of Azor. You will surrender it immediately."

"I will be doing no such thing." She smiled a smile of poison, teeth baring a hatred. "You come to this fair and honest trade deal with your law and litigation." She raised the sabre off the box and began to move it to Yataeso's throat, but there was a thwack and the woman's head rolled away. As the corpse fell to the ground, Jelika stood with an expression of purest rage. A vampire tried to grab her from behind, but in a brilliant flash, there became nothing but disparate body parts flying around and bloodying the cathedral's buttresses.

Yataeso reached in the box and grabbed the device- but it was no device at all. A stone made of a dark rock. In its enter was a ruby of some sort, and a button. Was that a button? He reached to press it, thinking most deeply of Lavinia. The stone would take him to her.

A blow to the back of the head, the kind that could send a giant tripping forward. Yataeso found himself thrown across the roof, landing on the other side with a painful thump. Jelika would not save him this time- she was on the other side of the roof, trying to cut through a massive crowd.

And who had delivered the blow but… Tanya. Through the blurry haze and building rain, Yataeso saw her walking toward him. Her arm seemed to be pulsing, and far too large, as if it had a massive growth on it.

"Child. You should not have come here," she taunted.

Trying to distract her, Yataeso simply blurted,"No. I have seen-" he winced-"one hundred lifetimes…. I will see….many more…."

Yataeso tried to planeswalk, but he found that he couldn't… something was preventing him. Tanya bore down on him ever closer. She raised her arm, and Yataeso thought about how much he could use someone's help, like Vura, or… even… Kuesh?

He fell unconscious, and his finger slipped.


	14. Part 13: A Time Honored Tradition

_Part 13_

 _A Time Honored Tradition_

And now, an unconscious Yataeso lied before them.

"Is he… dead?"

"No, he's just sleeping, right?"

"I… look, blood. He must be passed out."

"How?" Denitt asked.

"We can ask him when he wakes up."

Yataeso's robes covered up the stone, the ruby of unimaginable power, in his hand.

No one could see it; the chain wrapped firmly around his arm.

"Let's pick him up. This is… unusual."

"Wasn't he supposed to be on Ravnica, causing trouble?"

"Couldn't say."

The drunken sage, Tagam, reached his arms underneath Yataeso, as did Kuesh and Denitt. "So, what's 'is name then?"

They lifted upward.

"Yataeso, but you-"

Tagam shouted- the hood had come off of Yataeso, revealing his long ears and blue skin. "He must be damn near frozen!" Some measure of sobriety had shocked its way into him. "Or suff'cating!" But not enough.

"Don't mind that," Kuesh said, straining. "That's just what he looks like."

"That's just what he looks like? A damn elemental snowman off the Highspires?"

"Well…"

Tagam sighed. "You know, you really don't make a lot of sense."

"Something I've picked up in my travels."

Denitt looked between the two. He wanted to go somewhere new, to see all of the worlds of the Multiverse. Something to get away from the last several days.

Suddenly Yataeso sputtered to life. "Jelika!" He flailed his arms, and the trio struggled to hold onto him. "Where is she!?" He looked around in rage and fear.

Somewhere else, far away on Tarkir, a man appeared out of thin air. His flowing red cape betrayed his nature of otherworldliness. But he was not here to speak to locals regardless. One of his Chains had been activated. He had to find out who had done it.

The mountain around him was covered in snow and refuse. A small stone pillar, a monument tied around with red ribbon, a commemoration of an ancient battle.

The snow crunched as Bolas walked to it. How strange it was. He hadn't been here in so long. He hadn't needed to- his pawns here were already in place. He sighed and touched the pillar. It crumbled into black and finally to dust. He walked onward down a trail inlaid in the mountain. His mountain.

The trail seemed so long, but it was only a few moment's time before he reached its end- a village. A great palace laid at the end, rising upward in glorious fashion. This was the place his pawn resided- he knew that much. A tendril of aether only Nicol could see came downward and reached him. It floated there lazily, and in it Bolas saw the face of an old man, divining an ancient evil that had come to the village- him.

Yataeso had fallen over and was in the process of thrashing out at nothing. Kuesh had diagnosed his symptom's cause- a nasty blow to the back of the head. The sage Tagam, for his part, had fallen over, clutching his own head.

Denitt watched the divining process firsthand.

"An ancient evil!"

The few people on the street- including those from Tagam's own clan, turned their heads in worry.

"A dragon of immense power! More than all the dragonlords combined!" Tagam continued.

"Father!" Tagam's son had just burst forward from one a building marked "Suret's Tavern".

Tagam grasped for his son, catching onto his massive coat.

"Listen to me, there is a great being here, one from other worlds-"

And here Kuesh audibly gasped. He turned to Denitt before Tagam said another word. "We need to leave, immediately."

Denitt arched a brow. "Leave this vill-"

"The plane. Meet me back at Hopestream."

"Okay."

There was a flash, and there Kuesh stood.

"Uh- Hopestream, right?" Denitt asked. Kuesh hadn't gone anywhere.

"I don't understand," he said.

Tagam continued to shout louder and louder. Kuesh turned his head.

"Evil, evil, it has set its foot here, taking the form of a mere mortal! A king of deceit!"

"We'll figure this out later. We need him on his feet." Kuesh pointed to Tagam.

Another flash. A vampire stepped out of a cloud of vapors to find a world of forest and mountain. He looked around. He was at the summit of an impossibly high steppe. Behind him stretched a snowy plane. In front of him was the cusp of a valley, and below was a village, which, upon a short bloodseeking revealed at least a few thousand inhabitants.

Vurastas walked off the summit, sliding down part of the mountain until he reached another ledge. He scanned the village for anyone. He pulled an etherium flash out of his pocket. He flipped the cap and took a swig of the blood within. By the time he recapped it, he had already found his target- Kuesh and Denitt in the valley below. He had to report this to Hopestream. It was important that Kuesh and Denitt didn't know he had been there.

But when he planeswalked, there was the flash, but he arrived in the exact same place. He tried to planeswalk to Alara. The same happened. Ravnica. Nothing. Innistrad, then. And then it hit him why he couldn't planeswalk.

The caravan began to move. It had only taken a few minutes for the sage's son to gather the rest of the clan.

Kuesh's face had flushed as he began walking.

Denitt looked at him."You're nervous, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Denitt tried to read Kuesh's face, but it betrayed nothing but fear.

"Because Nicol Bolas is here. He is the ancient evil Tagam speaks of."

"How could you possibly know that though? It could-"

Kuesh turned to Denitt. They both stopped. Kuesh lowered his voice. "Certainly, you remember when we arrived on Zendikar.

Denitt nodded, and recognition hit him. "One of those ruby crystals is stopping us from leaving."

"Yes." Kuesh sighed as the caravan entered a forested area.

One of the women up ahead shouted,"ENTERING INTO SULTAI LANDS!" Some of the warriors grumbled.

"We're trapped with one of- if not _the_ \- most powerful being in the Multiverse. One that could rend your soul with a single gaze, a single spoken word. Something that has spent its entire existence curating every terrible spell and contortion of the body and aether that exists."

Denitt was silent for a moment contemplating what Kuesh had said. "How-" he said, interrupting his own reticence,"can you hope to defeat a being like that?"

"We haven't been, Dennit. We've kept him silent, working in the wings. He has not been able to work directly on the planes because we are there in greater number. The problem is… the problem is that he doesn't have to work in violence, not with his own hands or mind, anyway. He works in secrecy. He has become much more difficult to track since Sarkhan took away his dragonform. He may be less powerful, but we can't tell where he is on a plane."

"You can track which plane that we walk to?"

"A long time ago a planeswalker named Ral Zarek created a way for his guild on Ravnica to track the going-ins and coming-outs of all otherworldly creatures. His research hit a very major snag, but it's survived. He actually joined one of our Hideouts back in their earliest days, the Firescrolls."

"The Firescrolls?"

The trail narrowed and the caravan had slowed to a crawl.

"Yes, they are composed of followers of red and blue mana. Fiercely intelligent, dangerously impulsi-"

Shouts came from up ahead, and it only took a few moments for news of what had happened to reach the back- there was death ahead, but the caravan was not going to stop for it.

A sage who was not Tagam stood atop a cart loaded with weapons- swords, pikes, and strangely enough, even clubs. The sage yelled to all who would listen.

"Those who follow Silumgar, who detest freedom and hope- villains- lie ahead. Warriors come to ready yourselves, your brethren die so that you may avenge them!"

An incredible shout rose from the surrounding people, and several different creatures began to move around others toward the front- a few humans, an ogre which Denitt had not even noticed, and even an elephant warrior pulling along what Denitt assumed to be their companion- a massive bear that looked more accustomed to eating entire herds of deer that being led on a rope.

"Is this something that we should be worried about?"

"I doubt it. But Bolas will be hot on our tail. It would be best to move forward."

"Into the fray?" Denitt hadn't yet been in combat- and he didn't exactly desire to.

"Whatever it might take to stay away from the Elder."

Vurastas reached down and felt the earth. He had to find Denitt. He had to protect the prophecies. At any cost, as Venser had said.

Venser had demanded that the boy had to be protected. The child had never participated in violence, but that was going to change soon. He was going to have agency over his actions. He had to be on the side of good.

His hand sifted through the rocks of the trail.

He had to destroy that ruby.

He had to find… Denitt. A heartbeat, and Vurastas took off running.

"Take a weapon!"

"ARRGGH! Stay away undead swine!"

"Now now!"

"Do not flee, warrior! Stand and fight!"

The sounds of battle and those of people forcing their way into battle were becoming so mixed that Denitt, wielding a dagger and heirloom-like shield, could not tell them apart. He steadied his hand, but it wouldn't stop shaking. Was he destined to take a life? Did he have to?

"Denitt, whatever happens here, remember the goal. Stay away from Nicol Bolas. Stay safe." And then he paused and looked down. "And if you have to kill to survive, just… know that these people are not worth treating with compassion."

But weren't they?

A massive wall of a man walked past, seven feet tall and wielding a sword that could have been a beam in a Ravnican skyscraper. He swung it with a desperate ferocity. A woman sprinted past, gliding around corpses and zombies and their handlers like wind. And another, a hooded mage wielding fire, blasting apart all who stood in their way.

And Denitt looked down to his dagger. Kuesh held his hand in front of Denitt and unsheathed his own weapon- a gnarled and rusted sai. He twirled its clothed hilt around proficiently. "A gift from an old friend."

And he charged into the fray, stabbing and slashing. A zombie with golden chains around a stump that had once likely been a head fell to the ground. Even though the undead looked so decayed that a strong gust of wing should have shattered their remains in a hundred different directions, they stood against some warriors. The wall of a man from before had suffered great injuries- he had a finger torn from his left hand, and a savage bite mark had been etched into one leg. Still he beat the limbs from their owners, living and dead alike.

A masked assassin twirled his blade hungrily from atop a wagon. He surveyed the scene before him, and Denitt seemed to be the only one who noticed him. The assassin turned his eyes to Denitt and saw an easy score- something to warm up. He lept off the top of his perch and spun around in the air, not for any practical reason, Denitt determined, but just because the assassin probably thought it looked cool.

He hit the ground only a few feet from Denitt and straightened up. He smiled a near-perfect smile- the features of a grizzled man with beard and scars and a broken front tooth. Denitt raised his shield against this person who by all rights should have been a decent sort.

Kuesh was off slicing into several mages who were casting dark magics all around, trying to hit Kuesh even as he kicked their arms away.

This was something Denitt supposed he would have to do alone.

Clouds were beginning to swell overhead, and a couple drops reached the ground. Denitt raised his dagger, but the assassin simply laughed.

"Put down your sword and accept a quick death," the man mused.

"N-no." Denitt stood uncertainly and plotted his feet back and forth.

"N-n-n-NO!" the assassin mocked. He laughed again, but this time it was cut short by his rushing forward.

Denitt raised his shield, and the assassin's dagger bounced off lazily. The man didn't stagger at all, but repositioned a second later and struck again, a hit that Denitt barely parried.

"Let's see how you do this then!"

The assassin kicked towards Denitt's feet, sweeping him sideways. Denitt hit the ground hard. The injuries he had sustained at the Jeskai monastery stung once more.

The assassin dashed and lept again, spinning, and landing in front of Denitt, dagger already coming down.

Denitt raised the shield- the dagger did not hit, but debris flew everywhere. Denitt's shield had shattered. The assassin stepped back, preparing to strike again, laughing once more.

Denitt rolled over in pain, and noticed Yataeso on his feet standing closeby at the caravan. The assassin had not even registered the moonfolk.

A flash in Denitt's vision. The assassin lunged but did not hit any targets this time. A fine dust layered Denitt, clumps peppering his face.

Yataeso had his arms splayed before him. Redness covered them, soot falling away. He had burned the assassin.

Denitt rose to his feet almost immediately. "I didn't expect that out of someone like you!" He smiled though his legs were betraying him with every second he kept on them.

Yataeso looked down at his hands in horror. "I should not have This shouldn't have happened."

Then- the darkest laugh Denitt had heard in a week- a sinister chuckle coming from the treelines.

Denitt looked to notice even Kuesh stopping. The mentor looked back at the trees and was caught in the foot by a zombie's club. Kuesh doubled over and shouted something that Denitt could not hear.

Fire shot through the trees, enveloping all but three. People fell over in pain, some immolated, others barely clutching life. Zombies ran aimlessly around, moaning something as they fell over, dead again.

The caravan and its assailants both stopped to see who had committed this atrocity. People gathering over a chasm filled by silence with Kuesh, Denitt and Yataeso in its middle.

The sinister laugh again.

"By this point you might think this was a time honored tradition, you three."

A man robed in gold and red stepped out of the groves. He was jovial, but something was so obviously off. His eyes betrayed a hateful glint.

Yataeso looked at Nicol Bolas.

"I see you've made use of my stone, hm? I'd very much like it back."

"What is he talking about," Denitt asked, stepping back.

"Nothing to concern you, Denitt," Yataeso said.

"Well, Denitt. We meet again." Bolas turned his cold smile on the boy. "It's a shame this will be the last. I saw potential in you, even if you seem so determined to squander it on such simple minds."

Kuesh stepped forward. "You'll not be touching him, Bolas."

"Ah, the man of metal, the prodigy of the Ruins! Were you not one of the people that searched near Tolaria West for all those ancient spells?"

"We've met, Bolas. Don't pretend we don't know each other."

"Hm. Fair enough." Bolas looked ferocious. His hand lit up in flame. His whole arm. His torso. His whole body, Bolas's entire being had become a conduit for heat. "Let's make this quick then!" His voice echoed and he raised his hand. A slow serpent of fire sprang forth and prepared to strike, coiling back. Kuesh's hand flared blue, preparing to twist the flame to nothing.

If struck, and Kuesh raised his hand. The fire hit a shield of light and dispersed.

So began a sparring match as Yataeso and Denitt looked on. The two traded blows of fire and counterfire.

Denitt noticed Yataeso fiddling with something in his cloak. It looked like some kind of trinket, a watch of some sort, perhaps. But it appeared to be a stone. He looked closer and closer, until the robes fell away, and Denitt say the outline of the object- a stone necklace with a ruby inlaid in the middle. Yataeso was turning it over and over in his hand.

Denitt paused, reeling back- he had just seen through matter. He stumbled and fell backward, his mind spinning in confusion. Flames passed by, and there was shouting. Yataeso came to Denitt's side and yanked him back on his feet.

It was likely that the entire plane could see the duel. Vurastas ran to the canyon, the trail below. Even though the snow had long since passed, the chill bit at his chin. He could still feel temperature, something most of his kind could not. It was the damned rain, no, sleet. Almost snow but not quite eating at him. He pulled his coat further together, running as fast as his legs could carry him. Flaming spirals went upward further and further. Scavenging birds travelled to it regardless, meaning the dead certainly littered the dirt there.

Vurastas drew his channeler, an ancient weapon that they didn't make anymore. He leapt as high as he could, barely maintaining flight. He was gliding towards the ground, but at least he was travelling faster. The two sides were almost in sight.

"Give him to me! Death to you!" Bolas unleashed one barrage after another and it was clear that Kuesh was not going to win. Why wasn't Yataeso helping?

"He… he's going to d-die!" Denitt stammered out.

Yataeso looked down. "Then it will be. I'm not here for him."

Yataeso took the rock out of his pocket.

"When I press this button," the moonfolk said," leave this place."

"Where are you going? Doesn't Hopestream need you?"

"I don't need them anymore."

The ruby began to light up. Denitt looked back to Kuesh, who was falling to his knees at every exertion and channeling of mana.

Bolas cackled. "Old man."

"Not as old as you, slaver."

"Ha, slaver. That's an old one. I've upped my game. I don't take people anymore. I take worlds. You remember Amonkhet? Those… those were great times. Great stories to tell. They were so desperate for gods, so I gave them some. Maybe the same could happen here?"

Bolas stood over Kuesh, not even paying attention to Denitt or Yataeso. The dragon-man's hands lit up again, and he pointed them over Kuesh.

Denitt was helpless to stop it. He could only look away with a tear in his eye.

"Denitt, Kuesh is not going to die. Take these." He pulled a wad of parchment out of his robes that had been scrawled over by several different people. "Tell Kuesh not to come looking for me. Tell Hopestream not to come looking for me."

The ruby clicked, and Yataeso seemed to look deeply into something, and there was a great shimmer. He disappeared.

"LET THIS-" Denitt turned back- "BE. YOUR. LESSON!" An incredible blaze built up above all the heads of everyone watching. If began to fall, dozens of feet reaching terminal velocity- or at least as fast as fire could fall.

And then a great glimmer of light, an arc of light, sailed across the trail and intercepted the fire. The ball split into thousands of little shards that stopped in mid air, flying out like shrapnel, mirrors of heat. Bolas stared around. A vampire stood on a mountain above, the fading sun illuminating him.

"It's a good thing you're tuckered out, sir." The vampire lept down and hit the ground with a painless thump.

The vampire raised a rod of steel tipped in sapphire. "Run."

Bolas looked horrified, and shimmered too. He was gone.

The fire shrapnel fell to the darkening ground, little balls of heat in a freezing landscape.


	15. Interlude 2

_Part 14_

 _Execution_

 _Dearest Kadeen,_

 _When should we begin to ask ourselves how to defeat an immortal enemy? I know inquiring on a question like this is high treason, but as a trusted friend and military advisor, I believe it is time we reconciled it. How long will we rely on the Gatewatch? How far along the line do we_ not _trust them- when do they become more of a liability than an ally? Koth, for example. He claims to have seen several worlds, but his ingress further into our own's core reveals that he may not be as truthful as we desire._

 _And the girl, Elspeth. Koth came with the leonin Ajani, and both returned from the core struck and covered in oil that they quickly burned from themselves. Both rambling about her death, but she returned to camp only days later completely fine, save for her mad chatter about gods and betrayals._

 _And that being with only half their head! I can't even remember their name. They came with Elspeth and said to pay the kindness forward to Koth and Ajani to whom they claimed were old allies, and mentioned something about the pits of "Thairos", whatever that might be, being much easier to infiltrate once you know its secrets._

 _I relayed the information at once, but still the three planeswalkers seem to dwell on it._

 _Are they trustworthy? Will Elspeth's arrival change something in them? They have caused problems in the past; you can't deny as much. You have not said anything to anyone in the Pure Corps besides that they are trusted companions. I bring this to you because there are grumblings I nor the other leaders can put a stop to. The recruits and survivors- they whisper. Say the planeswalkers hold no sway in the battle. That the recruits would rather the others stayed out of it._

 _I wait for your reply. I need to make sure the recruits understand. I can't have them_ not _trusting whatever these planeswalkers might be. Not now._

 _Joise_

 _Your advisor. Your warleader._

Joise sealed the letter with the last of the wax. She imprinted on the letter and sealed it, handing it off to her squire.

"Deliver this to Jor," she said.

"Is it… about the Gatewatch?" he asked earnestly.

"Yes. Do not tell any others and do not let any soldier take it from you or open it. Strictly for Kadeen's eyes."

"Of course, at once."

And he left the tent, grabbing his blade on the way out. Joise looked at herself in the mirror. If the Vulshok could see her now, they would refuse her title. Her regalia flowed ostentatiously, but she had an important job to command and it was necessary that these final survivors could carry themselves on. She had to lead, and so she took more resources than she deserved to prove her status and authority.

"You can't fight them," her mother had said, the day before she left. Her's was one of the last Vulshok tribes. They were planning under their cowardly leader Dorva to turn themselves into the Phyrexians, to avoid any more bloodshed.

"I have this, at least," Joise had said. She held up a slip of paper that had, simply, RESISTANCE scribbled across its top followed by vague instructions into the Ish Sah Mountains, where it met near the Razor Fields. She had received it one day from a man who found her fighting a pair of compleated nim. She had not expected to find them so far away from the Mephidross and so was taken aback. If not for that scout, she would have died. He told her in just a few short moments of a great place led by an incredible leader and one of the last places in the world where the living could feast and still fight. Where people who would have been up for culling could still be free. He handed her the slip and said that if she ever wanted to come, that it could be so.

"This slip of paper, the fortress, it could be our salvation!"

Joise's mother took the paper and ripped it in two. Joise struck her mother then. She looked to her hands in terror- what had she done? She snapped up the paper fragments and shoved them in her pockets. She stole a finely made dagger and a couple day's rations. She left that village and never looked back.

All through the night she trudged to the place where Ish Sah met the Razor Fields, to where smoke could be seen rising.

There it was- a shining citadel of freedom.

The last shining citadel of freedom.

"So far from Bladehold. Is this safe?"

"Trust me, Joise has given this place her blessing. We'll be safe here."

The soldiers were roasting a beast of the Mephidross over a stake, attempting to leach the oil from its flesh. It still writhed, even in what must have been its death.

The soldiers were preparing to converge on the Vault of Whispers. They were preparing to shift the tide of the war. A whole group of strangely dressed people had shown up in the platoon just that day. Joise had assured they were cleared- they were welcome. She had received word from Jor Kadeen that he was going to show soon, to inspire the few hundred troops. Everyone knew he knew of the discontent surrounding these "planeswalkers"; their unwanted destruction and constant interference.

Torok looked over the swamp clearing that represented the final span of the Mephidross to the temple of Geth, to the Vault of Whispers itself. Therein he was meeting with Elesh Norn, the praetor and soon-to-be Dominus of Mirrodin. It seemed they had made talk to beginning repealing back the Mephidross to increase the compleated Razor Fields reach, though judging by what everyone knew about Geth's temperament, that suggestion had almost certainly worded in threats and blackmail.

"I still can't believe we made it this far," Torok said. His closest friend looked back to him.

"I wonder how it even happened. Was it not only a few years ago we were on the run?" Casius said. He looked much less optimistic, however. "Can the heart of our world still be saved, though?"

"I suppose we will need to see. Only Urabrask could have told us that information but…"

"Suns bless the Great Furnace." Casius know looked more valiant. "We will have it again yet. We will sanctify it just like the core."

Suddenly, the horns and whistles and drums of the camp began to sound, but not in the tone that precedes attack, but signifying that someone of great importance had arrived. Torok and Casius ran for the center of the encampment and found Jor Kadeen there in full regalia. His blade gleamed certain in its holster, a beam of light reflecting all the suns of Mirrodin that had risen over the battlefield. Somewhere on Mirrodin it was night, but that was not here.

Steam from the swamp rose over him. His face was gray and wrinkled, but looked nevertheless determined.

Everyone had gathered in the camp, even the soldiers roasting the beast.

Jor began to speak. "The Phyrexians have begun to salt their own earth. They know their days wane, they know that something has come to defeat them. Their oil grows weak and loses its strength." He looked up to the Bringer, the white sun. He unsheathed his sword and thrust it skyward. "Fight for the suns of Mirrodin that bless us! I know," he said, lowering the sword,"that you are uncertain of the planeswalkers. I assure you, they bring only good will. They do not entirely understand our world because they are not from here. Their hearts, however, are in the right place. Trust them. Guide them. They are our great-"

A brilliant beam of red light shot across the encampment and hit Jor squarely in the chest. There were screams, but mostly just shouts of rage. The sound of men mustering for battle.

"Who did this!?" one man asked.

"Vengeance!" said a woman.

"Blood for blood!" a leonin came forward. He bore a great scar across his eye and stood above all others. His cape was purple and white.

Then a maniacal cackling arose from all around.

The leonin removed a massive sword from a holster on his back and screamed "BOLAS!"

So many soldiers were running past. Torok knew that even if Jor were dead, this was no time to grieve. He removed a dagger from his belt and ran with his brothers and sisters.

"What happened here today!?" Joise demanded. This was the first time she had seen the leonin, Ajani.

"Great evil. Another planeswalker-"

"Planeswalker!? Are you not on our side? Our yours not looking to defeat the Phyrexians and revive Mirrodin?"

"This," Ajani said assuringly,"is not an act of the Gatewatch. This is the act of a planeswalker devoted to domination of entire worlds. We have tried to stop him the same as the Phyrexians."

"...I see."

"And whether or not you like planeswalkers, without the ones like us determined to stop such machinations of others, they will not halt. Jor will be the first of many such attacks, I believe. Nicol is determined to weaponize Phyrexia to his own ends. We are trying to stop him."

"Who is this Nicol that I heard you speak of?" Joise asked. She removed her sword from her waist and went to a desk set up in her tent. She pulled a paper out and began to write on it.

"In due time. He will be defeated, but it will not be tomorrow nor next year I'm afraid."

"Very well." Joise finished writing and handed the note to Ajani. "For now, you must deliver this to Bladehold. The council needs to know of Jor's injuries."

"Very well. Consider yourself lucky, however. Nicol does not usually miss."

"I'll try to keep that in mind."

Joise slept the rest of the day. Morale had taken a hit, but she was determined to still fight. The next day. The next day would have to be it.

The forces readied at sunrise. They carried their swords and axes and spears. Some carried bolas or crossbows. But all were prepared.

Ajani stood next to Joise at a ridge leading directly down into the heart of the Mephidross. Already the Phyrexians mustered for battle. Their forces readied, oil streaming from colossi, fueling the underlings below.

Joise raised her hand. "Give no ground. Give no mercy. Even as they wear the face of those you love, do not stop. These are not your people and they are not your kind. They are tyranny and death and hate."

She lowered her hand, and ranks charged down the ridge into the swamp below.

They collided with the enemies ranks instantly at the bottom. Joise knew these strategies inside out. They evolved their bodies, rarely their tactics.

Body parts flew in disparate directions as berserkers cut into the undead before them. Blood red and night black surrounded all. Ajani for his part scaled one of the massive constructs that must have once been noble elephants or mastodons. He threw their pilots over and tore to shreds everything keeping the creature alive. It toppled to the ground and crushed everything beneath it- mostly Phyrexians.

Rubble shot past, and Joise sliced into a human with metal plates over its eyes. She raised the scarf around her neck over her mouth to protect from oil. Cutting into more. Decapitation. She saw one that she thought was from her old tribe. She was much more thorough with that one.

Another planeswalker rushed past- she was covered in flowing white robes and shoutly nearly mechanically. There was no emotion in her face nor in her movements, save for a desire to kill because it had to be done. Her face betrayed no anger or happiness or sadness. Just being. Her glowing spear impaled several Phyrexians. None could even touch her.

Joise had a dagger barely miss. It skirted off her armor, and she retaliated to the monster's face.

Another gargantua toppled to the ground. The enemy forces were thinning, and the doors of the Vault of Whispers came into view- a torn and cragged collection of corroded metal. It looked as if it hadn't been open in decades.

Joise ran to Ajani's side. "We must push to the doors!" She pointed at the structure.

Ajani nodded and continued forward.

A collection of soldiers from various parts of Mirrodin sprinted past feverishly, only stopping to impale or behead a Phyrexian in their way. They were lead onward by a young recruit Joise remembered as Casius.

Suddenly, the Phyrexian line broke, and the door was open for the taking. Joise ran up the steps. No Phyrexian stood before her; they were cut down the moment they tried.

Hoping the door was not sealed, she pushed. They did not budge. Ajani came to her side. He had a bad cut on his left arm, but there was no oil there.

"Let me try." He put all his might into the postern. A great rumbling began. More soldiers came to the front. Casius, from before. A friend of his. Three more recruits, a couple Vulshok, a man that Joise had sworn she had seen from Bladehold, all pushing to their strength's end. Joise joined in again.

The sound echoed even out of the alcove that surrounded the massive entrance. A scraping that deafened.

Finally, there it was, ajar, enough for a few to slip through at a time.

The remaining army filtered in, Joise last. She looked back and saw a torn field, an empty field. She said a prayer to the Sky Tyrant that their souls would be blessed, and moved inside.

Onward they pushed, unstoppable. Their anger drove them near mad with the need to punish those who had taken their family and friends, their children and parents, their allies and enemies alike. To what remained of Mirrodin, there was only rage. The massive foyer gave way to smaller entrances. They pushed their way through, stepping over bodies. Those remaining finally reached a great cavern.

Angels of death flew above with charred and blackened wings. Unfeeling faces only directing death.

"Here it must end, I think," Ajani said. Joise nodded. Archers took aim at the angels and shot most down. The others still swooped down to slit the throats of the soldiers, screaming things like "Unbelievers!" and "Unworthy!" in ragged voices. Soon they had all been impaled or shot. Their corpses scattered the ground.

Above on a great balcony stood Elesh Norn, taller than anyone in Joise's ranks. She smiled- was that really a smile? She had no eyes. She was missing half her face. It could have been a grimace at the slaughter of her progress.

The woman planeswalker from before, the one whom Joise did not know, walked forward.

"I must do what I can. I can not forget where I came from. I cannot forget what was done to me. There will be vengeance yet..."

She continued to ramble as she walked through the cavern. Some guards came to try and stop her but were all felled.

The platoon could only watch as she began to levitate.

"Who is that?" Joise asked Ajani. She had been told he had known.

"An old friend. She was dead for a while. But she's back now. She's not herself anymore I'm afraid."

"She was dead for… a while?"

"Long story."

Elspeth was at level with Elesh Norn now. She was saying things still, but they diffused to nothing through the cavern. Elesh Norn talked back. They seemed to be arguing. There was nowhere for Elesh Norn to go. She had fought for so long, but this was going to be her death.

And then the wall opposite shattered open, and Geth charged in, running the distance and crashing into the half-ready platoon.

Joise screamed to Elspeth to end it.

Over and over as Geth, Phyrexia's general, torn all apart. Oil spilled everywhere and some ran terrified. Joise looked to the balcony. A great light had burst from the two champions, some kind of holy spells, but Elspeth was obviously winning. The burst ended, and Joise saw Elspeth throw Elesh Norn from the balcony one hundred feet down. There was a horrible smashing sound and porcelain debris scattered everywhere.

Ajani and Joise ran to the body, Geth be damned.

Elspeth touched back down, spear brandished. It's two lights alternated white and black. She stepped upon Elesh Norn. Ajani reached his hand out to Elspeth. She swatted it away.

"I must finish this." She raised her spear.

"Did you not hear Gideon?" Ajani said. He reached his paw before the warrior and Elspeth lowered the spear.

"Gideon would never understand. Years of torment endured in Nyx. I was not myself. I will complete what I sought to do before. I will avenge Venser just as Daxos and Ashiok avenged me."

Elesh Norn rolled what was left of her shattered head over to the side, facing directly where her cracked would to talk to someone, and began,"I will never fall to something as pestilent as you. The body will fail, but the idea is eternal. Phyrexia is eter-"

Elspeth raised her spear in the first clear emotion she had shown- hatred.

"No! Gideon-"

"DAMN GIDEON!"

And the spear came down on the praetor's head. It rolled to the side, more porcelain cracking off.

The figurehead of the contagion was dead.

Geth still stormed in the back of the cavern, stormed like Ajani. He grabbed Elspeth. He lifted her off her feet. "What have you done? What have you done!?"


End file.
